The Warlock's Child
by Fairglade
Summary: Valentine kidnaps Jocelyn, but not before she manages to hide baby Clary with Magnus. Magnus loves and cares for Clary as the child he cannot have, giving her a new identity and a new life. But whispers of Valentine's second child haunt the streets of New York, and a new, deadly race starts. Who will get to the child first—Valentine or the Clave? (Possible M content later on.)
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: All characters and background regarding Shadowhunters belong to Cassandra Clare._

I'm quite new to this place, feel free to give me any kind of feedback.

+) Edit: Re-written and updated in 07.19.2017. (at least on my side of the globe)

* * *

Joceyln anxiously watched her child giggle happily as the warlock showed her the pretty blue magical petals falling from his fingers. Her bright red hair that Jocelyn had spent the entire morning on to neatly braid was back in a messy tangled pile. The sight of her shining innocence was a painful reminder to what she had done, and what she should repent for the rest of her life. She could not save the child Valentine had so cruelly experimented on, and eventually burned together with his own life. She would save Clary, and give her the happy life of a mundane.

"It's alright, Jocelyn," Magnus sighed. "I can keep this red-headed scrap busy enough for you to zip home and back with the required payment. No, Clary, leave the Great Catsby alone." The last sentence was intended for the girl, small even for her age, who was reaching for Magnus's cat's tail. The girl gave him a meaningful look and grabbed the fluffy gray tail anyway.

The cat let out a piteous yowl and lunged for the girl. Before anything disastrous could happen, Magnus swept her up in his arms with a disapproving frown. Clary laughed and clapped her small, chubby hands, clearly delighted.

"She's a devil, this one," Magnus said. He lightly pinched her cheek, and turned to Jocelyn. His devil's mark, the green-gold cat eyes, were glowing. Despite what he let on, he was enjoying the company of the child. "Going yet?"

Jocelyn reluctantly nodded, waved at Clary, and stepped out of the door. The air was wintry, and the granite of the steps and the concrete floor was covered with a light sheet of snow. She pulled up the hood of her coat to cover her red locks—identical to the fiery red hair of the child—and carefully descended to the outside world. The icy breeze that swept through the streets put her on edge. There were rumors of past Circle members searching for betrayers, seeking for revenge. Luke had warned her, but not wanting to put him in trouble, she had turned away his offer to help. Something in the atmosphere she couldn't quite identify made her regret declining.

She quickened her pace. Sprinkles of snow started to fall from the ashen sky. The streets were quiet; too quiet, for New York. Instinctively, she glanced behind her. There were her footprints, already disappearing in the powder of snow, but that wasn't what made Jocelyn force her legs to a run. Another set of footprints was visible on the pavement, cut off mid-step in the middle of nowhere. She had a heavily-glamoured follower, hidden even from her Nephilim eyes.

The snow was falling in a flurry now, stinging her cheeks as she raced past the streets. She scrambled for her phone, but they slipped from her fingers and clattered to the roadway. Before she could bend to reach for it, it skittered to the center of the road as a car rushed by. Jocelyn cursed and abandoned the phone; hopefully, Magnus would notice something was wrong when she didn't answer his calls. Her lungs ached from running so fast without the help of newly applied runes. She could only pray that her Shadowhunter training would help her enough.

A shock of relief burst through her as the familiar white door of her own apartment came into view. Jocelyn burst into the room, panting and gasping for breath. She slammed the door behind her, and pushed the sofa against it. Her face was pale and her hands shaking. Her knuckles were white as she yanked the dagger from her belt. She may not have accepted Luke's assistance, but that didn't mean she hadn't taken precautions. She could only hope that this was enough. Jocelyn could feel the cold touch of the wall on her back and a drop of icy sweat slip down her neck. Then she could hear them. Footsteps, calm and confident, growing louder. The sound of formal shoes clacking against the floor in perfect rhythm.

She held her breath when the footstep paused, as if in thought. The sinister _tick-tock_ of the clock sounded like the giant chimes of a graveyard bell. Jocelyn glanced at the windows, wondering if she should jump out. She shook her head. She lacked the protection of Marks, and it was likely the streets were teeming with her stalker's friends. She swiped a lock of hair stuck on her temple from perspiration. She was not going to fall without a fight. The room was deathly quiet, save the clock counting down the precious seconds of freedom Jocelyn had left.

Then the door exploded, and the sofa crashed into the table and wall at the opposite side. The table splintered into a hundred pieces. One wooden piece flew like an arrow into where Jocelyn had been standing a second ago. She threw herself at the opponent, slashing her dagger in a wide arch. She could feel the dagger slice through skin and flesh, but knew it wasn't enough. She stabbed at the man, but she was much too slow. A cold, hard hand clamped on her wrists, knocking the blade from her fingers. Her heart sank. She raised her head to get a clear view of her assaulter, and sucked in a painful breath. The white-blonde man—the man she had once fiercely loved, yet came to hate just as much—smiled down at her, wiping blood from his arms.

"I missed you, too."

The shock of seeing him, far from dead, gave Valentine enough time to strike her with the hilt of the blade she had been wielding. Jocelyn sank into deep darkness, with only one word illuminating the depths of her personal Hell.

 _Clary_.

* * *

\- 14 Years Later

"By the Angel," Jace gasped. He scrunched his nose. "This place stinks of Alec's unholy armpits."

"Shut up, Jace," an irritated voice replied. "We are on a mission, and I swear, if you pick a fight with the local werewolf pack, you're on your own with the Eidolon."

"Ah," he smirked. "but that's exactly what I want." The black-haired girl to his right sighed and rolled her eyes at him.

The three young Nephilim were standing in the middle of a shabby, old bar. Everyone in the room, even the bartender, was glaring at them with distaste. That didn't seem to deter the gold-haired boy from grinning with mischief. Jace picked up a bottle from a shelf, rolled it between his slender hands, then purposefully dropped it. The bottle shattered at the impact, myriad of shards bouncing off the tiles. The bartender glowered as the liquid spattered the chairs. Jace smiled at the tense atmosphere, his gold eyes hovering over the customers, who were half-standing in a threatening stance.

"Oops. My bad. By the way, you sell crappy drinks." Jace noted with a mock shudder. "I guess that's the concept you're going for, with that stench of wet dogs?"

"Ignore him." Alec groaned. "We're looking for an Eidolon. We saw it run off to somewhere around here, but we lost the trail."

"And I thought we could use dogs to find the trail—"

Before Jace could finish the sentence, a chair smashed into the counter, just inches from where he stood. Instead of flinching, his grin widened. His hands reached for the mop beside him. He snapped the mop, giving himself a wooden pole with a jagged edge. Wielding it like a spear, he jumped, gracefully landing on the table from which the chair flew. Ignoring Isabelle's exasperated shout, he swiped the pole towards a burly man, ready to slice his arms.

"Stop!" The yell startled Jace, and the pole skidded across what seemed like an invisible wall. Everyone turned to see a short girl with fiery long hair, glaring murderously at Jace. Her hands were outstretched, and Jace could see gold rings adorning her fingers, sparkling madly even in the dim lights of the bar. Her eyes were amber, with black slits like a cat's. Her fingers sparked, and the pole in Jace's hands were whisked from his fingers. He looked down at his empty hands in dismay.

"That was my weapon," he whined.

"That was my mop," the bartender growled. Jace could see his features distorting into a beastly face. He could hear the crack of rearranging bones as the bartender's face twisted and started to grow a snout, full of fangs that could easily tear a bear apart. He tensed once more, ready to stab the werewolf with the seraph blade hidden in his jacket.

"I said, stop!" The girl yelled. The bartender clenched his teeth, his face returning to the dark-eyed human. She stepped towards the Nephilim, frowning with contempt. Jace studied her. Despite the devil's mark that shone like a beacon, there was something familiar about her, something that distinguished her from the other warlocks he had met before. "Don't you Shadowhunters have something better to do than goading werewolves into a fight?" Jace could hear the distaste in her tone, which surprisingly hurt.

He studied the girl carefully. She looked young, even for a warlock. If she had been a mundane, or even a Shadowhunter, she would have been around his age. She was a pretty girl, though it was a different sort of beauty from Isabelle. She had a petite form, slender as a paper doll, with wide eyes that spoke of a fierce curiosity. The spray of freckles across her cheekbones was strangely endearing. The way she acted as a protective ward to the pack of ferocious werewolves made his lips curve involuntarily—by appearance, she was the one who needed the most protection in the bar.

"Haven't we met before?" He knew it was a stupid question, but he couldn't shake off the strange feeling of familiarity. Alec stared at him with disbelief, which Jace answered with a shrug.

"Not only is that a terrible pick-up line, but you have an equally terrible sense of timing," she answered, her voice cool. "Get off the table." A flick of her fingers sent Jace flying off the table, but he landed with a graceful flip. There was a hint of disappointment in her amber eyes. "For a Shadowhunter, you seem surprisingly uninterested in hunting. There's an Eidolon outside. Just a few blocks ahead."

"And for a warlock, you seem surprisingly uninterested in the Accords," Alec said. Jace silenced him with a look.

"I see no point in abiding by the Accords if it protects Nephilim goading werewolves, and threatens warlocks protecting furniture at the same time," she replied. "Now get out before I do something the entire Clave will hunt me down for." She snapped her fingers, and the door swung wide open. The lights of the streetlamps spilled into the bar.

"Let's _go_. She told us what we need to know. We're going to lose the demon." Isabelle hissed as she nudged Alec, and slightly tugged him toward the door. He sighed and glanced at Jace. Jace felt the urge to send them along first, to give himself some time to speak with the warlock girl. He clamped his teeth on his tongue before he could voice it, and nodded to his _parabatai_.

Before he stepped out the door, he swiveled to face the girl. She was watching him, scowling. For a moment, when his gaze lingered on her eyes, they were the color of spring leaves. When he blinked, they were the usual amber shade once more. Jace massaged his temple, wondering if he had finally gone mad.

"What's your name?" Jace asked.

The girl's eyes widened in surprise as she blurted out an answer: "Cl—Alice. Alice Bane." Then she bit her lower lip, regret for telling him the truth plain on her face. The corner of his lips twitched as he turned back towards the door.

"I'll be seeing you again soon, Alice."

The bemused scoffs of the girl were audible in the crowded late-evening streets of New York. Jace huffed a short laugh in exhilaration as they launched into the shadows, for the demon they were about to dispatch. The sight of the warlock had replenished him with newly found strength, as if she had carved new Marks to his scarred skin. This evening, he thought, had proved to be an exceptionally good evening.

* * *

 _Note:_

I've just seen a review by a Guest, saying that the title and summary is similar to another story. (Is there a way I can add comments directly to the reviews?)  
I have to say that is quite peculiar, because I just learned about this site, and created an account on Monday.  
I'll check the story mentioned after I'm finished with my finals, and make sure the story is not flowing the same way.  
Also, I would like to add that it's only the first chapter, so it _might_ be a little too early to judge whether the story is similar or not ;)

\+ Edit) I've said it on a later chapter, but I'll post it here just in case. I've read the summary of the story mentioned, and it seems there won't be anything to worry about :D Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

Jocelyn was sitting on a rococo themed chair. Her eyes were blank, lifeless. There was a thick chain around her neck, and bands of metal digging into her wrists. There were faint red marks where the chain rested on her pale white neck. Her only movements were the faint rise and fall of her chest.

Valentine sat at the opposite of the table, his fingers skimming over parchment. He glanced at her. She had lost weight over the years, and there were soft creases around her green eyes. When his lips parted, she flinched ever so slightly. A frown tugged at Valentine's eyebrows.

"There are whispers all over New York, Jocelyn," he murmured. He crumpled the parchment in his big hands. "Whispers of another child. Our child."

Jocelyn did not respond. She closed her eyes, trying to hide all emotions, but that was enough to Valentine. He stood up, his chair scraping the wooden boards. Jocelyn kept her eyes shut, concentrating on not showing a single shred of recognition or despair.

"I want you to tell me about her," he whispered into her ears. "Where she is, what her name is, and who she is with. How you hid her from her father."

"I have no children," she replied. The chain at her neck glowed red, and she could feel the familiar sting of pain biting into her neck and wrists. A memory flashed beneath her eyelids. She could see the first time a stele burned into her skin, and the nightmares that night, of burning and ashes. The pain grew even harsher, like a white-hot iron digging into her soul. She bit back a cry. She opened her eyes, now red-rimmed with tears of fury. " _I have no children_." Her voice was a rasp.

She acted before she knew what she was doing. She dropped to the floor, her leg drawing a circle as she kicked Valentine's ankle. Caught by surprise, he stumbled. Before he could regain balance, her fingers snatched the blade tucked in his belt. For a second, she cradled the short sword in her fingers, like a baby savior that had come from the heavens. Then she did what she should have done so many years ago, but did not have the courage to do. The blade plunged into her heart.

 _Clary._

Her only child, her courage, her life, and her end.  
The final whisper of breath escaped her lips. An unfinished prayer lingered at the edge of her mind as the Angel embraced her.

* * *

"Clary!" Magnus exclaimed as she entered the room. "I told you to stay away from the werewolves this month. Their new cubs aren't stable."

"Well, guess what, Magnus," she replied. She removed her rings, which clinked against the glass of the table. "I've met something worse than a couple of wild wolves." Magnus raised an eyebrow as he picked up one of the rings. He tapped the sapphire with his index finger. Blue light trickled down from his fingers and into the jewel.

"And what would that be?"

"Shadowhunters, those arrogant, obnoxious idiots. They were goading the whole pack into a fight" she huffed. Magnus handed her the ring as she added, "I tried my best to look like a warlock." She swirled her hands, trying to look somewhat mysterious, but Magnus couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous she looked.

"You don't just twirl your hands like a windmill," he chuckled. He lifted his hands as blue sparks flickered around his fingers. "You have to add a little snap to it."

"Snap or no snap, I think I did a pretty good job," she laughed. "They all believed it. Plus, Luke did say I looked like the average warlock."

"The thing is, darling, you're not. Give me your necklace." Clary's eyes turned back to her normal green as Magnus took the pendant from her. The pendant glowed in his fingers, shimmering in a deep gold. The glow slowly dimmed when Clary fastened it. Her eyes flashed as the amber spread in her irises, her pupils turning into a thin, vertical line. She blinked slowly, as if adjusting to a new pair of glasses.

"I'll never get used to this," she muttered. "It feels plain weird."

"You know very well why you need this, Clary." Magnus warned, his voice dead serious. "The moment word spreads that you are not Alice Bane, Valentine will get a whiff of you. I can't risk that."

"I know," she grumbled. "I am Alice Bane, a warlock to the Nephilim and an orphaned, abandoned Shadowhunter to Downworlders, blah de blah. Valentine hasn't been searching for me for the last 14 years. I don't think he's going to start any soon."

"As a matter of fact," he grimaced. "Downworlder corpses are showing up, all with signs of torture. I can't say for certain, but it might be Valentine. In fact, I'll be surprised if it isn't Valentine. If he hears that there's a stray Nephilim child out there…" He bent to face Clary. Green-gold eyes stared into amber eyes. "Never take off that ring I gave you, and come straight to me when it's depleted of magic. Same for your pendant."

Clary could see the worry in his ancient eyes. She smiled reassuringly. "If it makes you feel any better, I have my story memorized. Alice Bane, whose parents were past Circle members, slaughtered by the Clave at the Uprising. My family had close bonds with Magnus Bane, the greatest warlock ever, and hid me with you."

"You forgot about how the Clave doesn't know of your existence, which is why you need to hide from the Nephilim," he smiled proudly. He ruffled her bright red locks affectionately. "This may be my demon blood talking, but I like how the corpses had torture marks. The Downworlders love you too much to rat on you."

" _Magnus._ "

Clary pushed him away, mock horrification flooding her face. She fit the gold ring on her finger, shuddering slightly as the magic rushed through every vein of her body. Magnus flicked his finger, and the other rings were back onto her fingers. Clary flexed them, watching the gold bands clink against each other.

"It's best to hide a tree in a forest, remember?"

Clary rolled her eyes in response. She twirled her hands, trying to give it a little snap. The world seemed to fold like a paper origami, and rippled as Clary landed on her bejeweled, queen-sized bed. A portrait of Magnus and a younger Clary smiled down at her. She kicked off her boots and sank into the soft blankets, wondering what happened to the red-haired woman smiling at her in the faintest of her memories.

* * *

"Hey, Luke? I'm here for the drink you owe me for yesterday!" Clary called out as she entered the bar. Magnus had better drinks, of course, but the cheap drinks at the bar made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. When Clary had told Luke about it, Luke laughed and said that it was the 'pack's extra love'. His response made her like the place even more.

"Oh, hello, Alice." Luke waved at her. Clary could see his eyebrows furrowed in a worried frown. "I'm afraid we're a bit busy at the moment. A murdered wolf was found down the alley last night. He was… burned all over. We're thinking someone poured a sack of silver dust on him."

An iron fist clamped over her heart. "Is it anyone I know?"

"Yes. It is—was—Alaric." Clary could hear the suppressed sorrow in his voice. She sat down next to Luke, laid an arm around his waist and half-hugged him. His smile was weak. Then he lowered his voice in a barely heard whisper. "Be careful, Clary. Valentine might be on the loose again, trying to torture out information. We can't afford to lose you, too." He was one of the very few Downworlders who knew who she really was.

"Nor can I afford to lose any of you," she murmured. She pictured the bar, empty, with no werewolf wearing a warm smile. She felt needles in her heart. "Please be careful, Luke. And take care of the pack."

"I've warned the pack to never speak of you. Valentine might get suspicious when he hears about a Shadowhunter child with no Shadowhunter family name," he bit his lips. "You should tell Magnus to warn the other Downworlders."

Clary was about to answer when the door slammed open with such force that the wall cracked. A blue-eyed wolf burst into the bar, panting. Clary watched with surprise as the wolf shifted into a tall man.

"There's someone looking for you, Alice," he spat between breaths. "It may be the murderer." The entire pack rustled in alarm. "I ran as soon as I heard him approach a bloodsucker, but I did take a glimpse. I think he had white hair, but I can't be sure. It was too dark."

Mutters and murmurs burst into a loud chatter as the pack tensed. Clary could make out the word _slaughter_ among the commotion and felt a pang of pain. Innocent people were getting slaughtered because of her. Luke touched her hands. Clary realized that her nails were digging into her palms, drawing blood.

"Everyone!" Luke roared. The pack instantly fell silent at the alpha's voice. "Stay in the bar. Making a fuss is _not_ going to help." His eyes traveled over the pack, his lips moving as he silently counted. "Seems like we're all here. Do not exit unless I tell you to. Melissa, Felix, take care of the cubs, and protect them if we have an attack."

Silence hung over the bar. Clary let the magic flow from her fingers, probing the surroundings of the bar for anything suspicious. The magic of the ring wasn't strong enough to protect the whole bar, so the best she could do was watch over it. She could feel the warm thrums of werewolf heartbeats, and the hushed breaths of the occasional passing vampire. Then she could feel it. The sharp, energetic pulse of angelic blood, as loud and bright as the chimes of bells. She stopped the flow of magic and tensed. She eyed Luke, who answered with a terse nod. It was coming.

Clary's sight, enhanced with magic, could see the hint of a silhouette against the dim streetlights. Before Luke could stop her, she leapt forward, brandishing a blade she summoned from Magnus's storage. Her forearm struck the figure's neck, pinning him to the brick wall as she swung the blade forward. But before the blade could hit the target, the figure grabbed her upper arm, tossing her away like a twig. Caught off guard, she crashed into the ground hard. She could taste blood in her mouth and a sharp pain on her lower lip. She rose from the concrete, ignoring the protests of her limbs.

"Interesting greeting, warlock," the figure said as he stepped into the dim streetlights. Clary could feel a click at the back of her mind; she knew that voice. "But you're not a warlock, are you?"

The familiar gold eyes twinkled as the boy picked up the shattered pendant. Clary's heart jumped with panic. Her hands flew to her neck, the absence of the pendant leaving a hard knot in her throat. The boy's gold eyes bore into hers, and a soft murmur made Clary bite her already bloody lip.

"Who are you, little girl?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Note:**

I did say I'd update every Tuesday and Wednesday, but that would put a little too much pressure on myself on Wednesday. I'll update on the weekends and on Wednesday.

Please feel free to give me any feedback!

* * *

"So, Clary."

"Alice." Magnus corrected crossly. "I understand you brought him to me because he found out you aren't a warlock, but I don't understand why I don't just modify his memories and shoo him off."

"Because the Clave would forbid it," Jace replied. He was observing a small photograph of Magnus and Clary. Clary glanced at it. It was a photo from when Magnus had taken Clary to Paris for her twelfth birthday. She remembered how Magnus had gifted her with her very own stele and a copy of the Gray Book. "And Clary did say something about protecting Downworlders." He shot Magnus a smirk as he called Clary by her real name.

"Magnus, I can't let Downworlders get murdered just to save my own hide," Clary pleaded. "Alaric was murdered yesterday. I can't lose more friends. We need the Nephilim to protect them."

Magnus was deep in thought. He tapped the table with his fingers, little sparks of light dancing around his them. He studied Jace carefully. "Herondale, you said? I see the resemblance."

"To who?" Jace's eyes snapped to Magnus, his gold eyes intent. "Did you know my father?"

"Stephen? No, I didn't mean him…" Magnus trailed off. His eyes softened, as if he was cherishing fond memories. "Then what are you planning to do, Clary? Remember, Valentine was not the only one your mother was running from. She was running from the entire Clave."

Clary bit her lip. She did not have a plan. When Jace demanded the truth, she just felt that maybe she should tell him what he wanted. She had been annoyed by how he bullied the wolves, with the haughty glint in his gold eyes and his proud posture. It had been clear that he thought he was superior to them, the lowly Downworlders. But when he confronted her under the dim streetlights, she could see him up close. She realized that he was _trying_ to believe that he was superior to everyone, Downworlder or Nephilim, but he was failing miserably. The self-loathing hidden inside his gleaming eyes was what made Clary lower her barriers.

"She could present herself to the others as the abandoned orphan the Downworlders are familiar with," Jace suggested. Clary turned to stare at him. He met her gaze. The corner of his lips twitched, perhaps amused by the idea he was playing with. "Alice Bane, the victim of the Uprising. And you can offer the Clave the location of Valentine's second child, the one he's searching for so desperately. The Clave is aware that he is looking for something. They're just not sure what it exactly is."

"That could work," Magnus muttered. "But are you willing to lie to the Clave, Herondale?"

"I have lingered with the fey long enough to know how to twist truths," he answered. His confident grin was identical to what Clary had seen at the bar. "Besides, Clary should do all the talking."

When both Jace and Magnus turned to her, Clary shrugged. "My whole life is a lie. I won't mind lying a little more."

"That's my girl," Magnus chuckled, but his eyes weren't smiling. There was only worry in his gold-green eyes. "Then I believe you'll be staying at the Institute?"

"Yes," she nodded. "I know you taught me everything you know, and that's a lot. But I need to be with the Nephilim to really be what I am. You know it was only a matter of time."

Magnus smiled in response. It was that warm smile full of affection, the smile that he saved only for Clary. The smile that Clary loved. She ran up to him as he embraced her, laughing softly into her messy red hair. His embrace was always comforting. Clary remembered the first time she had sliced a demon to cinders, and how she had cried into his chest, frightened at the experience. His rhythmical heartbeat had lulled her to sleep, his warmth protecting her from the nightmares.

"Promise you'll be safe?" Clary nodded in response.

When she broke out of the embrace, she could see Jace staring at them. She could see his eyes and the mixed emotions he barely hid. She couldn't decipher what they were. _Longing?_ Clary guessed, but she was not sure.

"Let's go," he finally said. "The Lightwoods will be waiting."

* * *

Clary stood in front of the enormous cathedral, standing tall and proud. The spires seemed to reach into the heavens, almost splitting the dark clouds. The moon hung over the building, illuminating the Institute's elegant beauty. She could feel her heart flutter against her ribs; she had longed to visit the beautiful cathedral, but it had always been off limits to her. Finally, she was going to take her first step into the world of Nephilim.

"Clary," Clary spun to face Jace. His eyes were cautious, almost hesitant as they faced hers. "Why did you come here?"

"Uh, are you suffering from memory loss?" She frowned, reaching on her tip toes to place a hand on his forehead. "You don't seem to have a fever."

"No, I mean—" he sighed. His hands were soft as they pulled her hand from his forehead. "I felt you had other reasons to come here, other than what you told Magnus. You could have just told me about the murders. The Clave is already obliged to protect Downworlders, even without your help."

"Oh, so that's what this is all about."

"We can offer you protection from Valentine, but Magnus is the High Warlock of Brooklyn. He's more than capable of hiding you far, far away from Valentine's reaches." His intent gaze was making Clary uncomfortable. She tore her eyes away from his. Her eyes wandered over his black Marks that spoke out to her of strength, luck, and speed.

"I will only answer that if you tell me why you're sinking in a pool of self-loathing," she quietly replied. He was right; she did have other options. Her excuses of wanting to spend time with Nephilim was a lie. She wasn't too fond of their arrogance. She was sure Magnus sensed the lie, but she knew he would not question her. He trusted her. She turned to gaze at Jace, whose eyes had grown large with surprise. His pupils were strikingly dark against his gold irises. "You're trying to get hurt, to get yourself killed. You hate yourself so much."

There was a pause. Then he laughed, though Clary could see that there was no mirth in it. "Let's introduce you to my family."

The Institute was a maze of corridors and rooms. There were banners holding angelic runes that seemed to glow in the dimly lit halls. Jace took a few twists and turns, frequently casting a look behind his shoulders to make sure Clary was following. He strode up the stairs swiftly. Clary's foot caught on an uneven stair, and stumbled. Before she could grab the hand rails to steady herself, a hand grabbed her forearm. After checking she wasn't hurt, he turned away from her. She muttered a word of thanks, but he pretended not to hear.

They finally reached a large door. Jace pushed it open to reveal a large room with a long oak table stretched across it. Chairs with blue velvet cushions surrounded the table evenly. On one chair sat a boy with black hair and dark blue eyes, who turned to see them make an entrance. The girl promptly sitting on the table in front of him faced them, too. She had been talking to a tall boy.

Clary stared at him—he strangely looked familiar. His hair was tidy and black, striking against his pale face. He was beautiful the way eagles are beautiful; there was something predatory and graceful about his features. He looked like a character cut out of a fairy tale, a handsome dark prince who envied the hero and hid his sorrowful secrets. His look of surprise changed to a welcoming, yet a little puzzled smile.

"I see Jace has brought a guest," he said as he rose from his chair.

"What's the warlock doing here?" The blue-eyed boy demanded. "You know better than to bring random Downworlders to the Institute, Jace."

"But her eyes are different," the girl remarked. "And she doesn't look like a warlock. She doesn't have the elegance."

"There is the option of simply asking her, you know," Jace said. He put an arm around Clary's shoulders, much to her surprise. He was smiling down at her, a twinkle in his eye.

Clary sighed and swatted his arm off her. She met the suspicious gazes of the young Shadowhunters. She brought out the stele she had hidden in her pockets, and drew a Mark on her own skin that everyone in the room would know—the Courage in Combat rune. The burn was almost satisfying against her skin. She watched the three as her fingers let the stele trace the curves and lines of the Mark. She hid a smile when the blue-eyed boy gaped at her in surprise.

Having caught the attention of the others, she took a deep breath and launched into the wild story of Alice Bane. Her doubt of her ability to convince them receded as the words spilled out, every word more confident than the last. She could feel Jace's gaze on her face. When she glanced up at him after finishing her story, he turned away. She thought she heard him huff a laugh.

"You said you will trade information on Valentine's kid when the Downworlders are protected, but how will you confirm that they are?" The girl asked.

"When there are no similar killings for a month," she replied.

"This isn't our decision to make though," the blue-eyed boy said thoughtfully. "The Conclave should be notified, but they're all at Idris at the moment. Sebastian's the only adult here, but he's barely 18."

"And he's not here to stay," Jace added. He was eyeing the other boy, making little effort to hide his contempt. "His babysitting mission is over when Maryse and Robert return."

"That's true," Sebastian replied. He didn't seem to care about Jace's hostility. "But we can patrol the Downworld streets every night if that makes you happy. We should first get you to sleep, though. You're a standing corpse."

He was right. Clary had been yawning continuously, fighting hard to stay on her feet. The walk to the Institute wasn't exactly an easy one without any Marks to support her. She would have just made a Portal, but Jace had insisted that they made him feel sick. Plus, she had to save the Marks until she met the others, so she could have the dramatic effect on them.

"I'll take Alice to a spare room," Jace wrapped his fingers on Clary's wrists. The firm grip helped her steady herself. Sebastian offered to do it himself, but Jace waved him away like a pesky mosquito. Jace led Clary out of the room, one arm embracing her shoulders. Slightly dazed, she leaned on him as they walked through the long corridors of the Institute. Their footsteps seemed to ring through the cathedral.

They paused in front of a white door. Jace turned the brass handle to reveal a haimish room. It wasn't the exquisite room that Magnus had, but it was fully furnished with simple yet elegant furniture. The air was warm and cozy. It was nothing familiar, but it felt like home.

"This room is across mine. Feel free to come knocking whenever you need me," he said as he nudged her into the room. "I expert in answering questions, saving and comforting damsels in distress, and posing as a nude model."

"Jace," Clary turned to face him. "Can you tell me about your family here?"

His eyes grew soft at the question. It was the same softness Magnus wore when he was murmuring about the Herondale family earlier. "Sure. You've met Alec and Isabelle Lightwood. The Lightwoods took me in when I was ten. We've grown up together, trained together ever since. They're the closest people I have to family." Clary wanted to ask what happened to his real family, but she bit back the words. She didn't want Jace to return to the coldness when she had asked of his self-loathing.

"You like them a lot," she said instead, half-smiling.

"They are what makes me live," he replied. "Alec is my _parabatai_. He's the best I can possibly wish for. Izzy is Izzy," he laughed. "She is what she is and you have to like it, or else she'll plant you upside down in the banks of the Hudson river."

"And Sebastian?" Clary asked, and instantly regretted it. The wistful look in his eyes vanished.

"Sebastian Verlac is a relative of the Lightwoods," he said, not a hint of emotion in his voice. "Maryse and Robert are Alec and Isabelle's parents, and they've gone to Idris for some emergency meeting of the Clave regarding Valentine's sudden appearance in London. Sebastian is an adult, so he came here to take care of the Institute during their absence."

"Why do you hate him so much?"

"Hate is a strong word," he murmured. "It's more of a… mistrust, you might say. There's something off about him, something that doesn't fit. I can't define it, but there's definitely something wrong." He glanced at the clock. "It's almost dawn. You should get some sleep."

Clary nodded in response. He exited the room, closing the door firmly behind him. Clary dived into the bed, burying her face into the pillow. The pillow was soft, the blankets downy. Its warm scent reminded her of the fancy bed back at home. A deep sigh left Clary's lips as she let the warmth drag her into an effortless sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

_Clary was standing in a desert of bone white sand. The sky was dark, and the moon, shattered into pieces, lay limp in the sky. She was barefooted, the fine sand crumbling beneath her toes. She shivered as the icy cold of the sand bit her feet. She carefully treaded through the desert, though she had no idea where she was heading. No matter how long she walked, there was no change in landscape. The white sand seemed to stretch into infinity. Clary could feel the hard knot of despair in her throat._

 _She yelped when a hand grabbed her wrist and spun her around. She lifted her head to face Sebastian. His black eyes had a cruel glint, his lips an unforgiving line._ Look around you, Clary, _he whispered._ Look around you. _Clary tore her eyes from his, and a silent scream tore through her lungs. There were corpses sprawled on the white sands, blood staining the bony white with a sickening crimson. But they weren't sands now, but skulls, piled and piled on top of each other—_

Wake up, Clary. _She could hear Sebastian's whisper resonating in her own skull as she sunk into the pile of bones she had been standing on. Bony fingers clutched her shoulders as they dragged her into the dark. They closed over her mouth to muffle her scream._ Wake up. Wake up.

Clary gasped, her eyes fluttering open as Jace shook her shoulders. Her mouth was dry, her throat stinging as if she had been screaming.

"It's almost midday, and I can't have you skipping lunch," he said. He straightened himself, crossing his arms. "You seem to have had a lovely dream."

"You bet," she muttered, trying her best to keep her voice from shaking. She could still see the cold eyes of Sebastian, glaring at her. She rubbed her eyes. "It featured your lovely Sebastian."

"That explains your expression when I woke you up. Any dream that doesn't star me is a nightmare."

"I'll keep that in mind the next time I fall asleep," she said. Jace offered her a hand. She took it as she yanked herself off the bed. "Do you usually barge into ladies' rooms? Someone should have told you it's extremely impolite."

"You're welcome," he replied with a pleasant smile. "I knew you would like to brighten the start of a new day with my radiant presence." She ignored him with a roll of her eyes. Her limbs still ached from the fight— if it could be called one— she had with Jace the previous night. "You might want to get ready to go out. Isabelle cooked lunch," he explained, as if the last sentence was an obvious reason to eating out. Clary thought she caught a faint smell of boiled socks wafting through the open door.

"I'll come knocking as soon as I get ready," she muttered, feeling a little queasy. Jace nodded before leaving the room, closing the door behind him with an audible click.

Everything was a daze as Clary got ready. She could still hear Sebastian's voice echoing in her head. She furiously brushed her teeth, hurting her gums. The pain managed to take her mind off the sinister dream. When she entered her room, rubbing her wet hair with a white towel, she was surprised to see her clothes in a neatly folded pile on her bed. Jace must have visited Magnus during the morning. She only just realized how sleeping in her casual clothes had left her a little stiff. She changed into a pair of jeans and a white shirt, the feeling of crisp fabric leaving a satisfying sensation on her soft skin. They were the few ordinary clothes Magnus had allowed her to keep. She combed her hair with her fingers, letting the magic dry the damp locks.

She knocked on the ivory door across her room. When she heard Jace shout an answer, she turned the door knob— it had a ring of herons carved in a circle, she realized— to bump into Jace. He was wearing black cargo pants and a rider jacket thrown onto a black shirt. She could see the swirl of Marks on his collarbone.

"I was going to open the door for you," he said. "I am often told that I am an extremely polite person."

"Your room is dreadfully messy," she noted, promptly ignoring him. His room looked as if it had been ransacked by a hasty burglar. Papers and photographs were sprawled on the ground, drawers flung open, and weapons were stashed against a sky-blue wall. His blankets were a tangled mess on the mattress.

"Messy?" Jace repeated. "I'll have you know I am the definition of tidiness."

"Peculiar," she replied, observing the dagger hanging on a ruined pearly white curtain. "I don't recall seeing your name the last time I looked it up."

"Then your dictionary is sorely in need of an update," he smirked. Clary saw him pocket something with the corner of her eye. Maybe he had been digging his room apart in search for something. Before she could ask anything, he swept her out of his room, following close behind her. "I think I saw Isabelle looking for us. My deepest regrets to my _parabatai_ , but I am afraid we will have to abandon him if we want to keep our tongues live and healthy." He shook his head in mock sorrow.

Clary's thoughts flew to Sebastian, but the dream had left a bitter taste. She did not want to confront him just yet, at least not while the nightmare was still lingering at the tips of her mind. "Where are we going?" she asked instead.

"The one place on this dimension that can possibly be more aligned to the heavens than the Nephilim," he said, his lips pulled into a delighted smile. _He's beautiful_ , Clary realized with a jolt. She had known he had charming looks, but his smile, cleared of the constant guard in his expression, illuminated his angelic features. "The brilliance of the spaghetti _fra diavolo_ at Taki's outshines even our brightest witchlight runestones."

"If you say so."

Jace led her through the maze of corridors, this time matching his speed with hers. She couldn't help but notice how their footsteps were perfectly synchronized. She deliberately slowed, and Jace instantly fell in step with her. He glanced at her. Only then did Clary realize she had been staring at him, and tore her eyes from his face.

"So," his voice was a low whisper. "You were with Magnus since you were three?"

Clary nodded. His sudden curiosity of her past was surprising, but she had no reason to hide it. "Mom had taken me there, asking Magnus to blind my Sight. She wanted to live as mundanes. Magnus told her he needed to study the fabrics of my mind carefully, or else he may damage something else permanently. She was on her way home, to fetch what Magnus wanted as payment. She didn't come back. Magnus was worried, and went looking for her. He found a Morgenstern ring that mom had left in warning."

"You don't remember her, then?" There was an unreadable emotion in his voice.

"Only brief flashes. I think she looked a lot like me. Red hair, green eyes…" she trailed off. Jace hailed a cab and opened a door, beckoning her to climb in. She did. Clary pulled herself into the other seat to let him climb in after her, shutting the car door. He barked a location to the driver and turned to face her.

"Fourteen years with a warlock," he shook his head in disbelief. "And you didn't ever think of going to the Nephilim for help?"

"Why would I? Magnus is the best protection ever, and he doesn't fuss over some petty law every time he so much as sneezes," she replied, disregard for the Clave coloring her voice. "Besides, I'd be sent to Idris. All my friends are here."

"Friends?"

"The Downworlders. You're familiar with Luke's pack. I've hunted demons with them every now and then. And there's the vampires. They're friendly enough if you let them. Plus, they're fantastic at chess," she half-smiled at the memories. "Magnus's friends, the warlocks, scavenged multiple dimensions to find me this ring. I think I've met every Greater Demon in existence."

"And the fey?"

"Difficult people, though they do seem to like me. But they either have a murderous sense of humor or are too careful with their words to be any fun." Her eyes flickered to his. There was a spark of amusement in his gold eyes. "But they did train me with weapons."

"But no Shadowhunter friend. No one like you," he said. "Sounds a little lonely, in my opinion."

Clary shrugged. "Does race really matter when making friends?"

"Perhaps not," he said. The cab pulled over to the side of the road. Jace handed the driver a couple of notes and pulled himself out of the car. Clary followed, clumsily stumbling a little. Jace caught her by her shoulder. "You have the balance of a drunk faerie warrior. Fantastic training at its work, I see."

Before Clary could snap a retort, he led her to a low brick building. It stood like a block of red lego, windowless with a neon sign hanging lopsidedly. Two figures were standing at the entrance, their faces hidden under black hats. It looked like somewhere from the movies, where gangs traded drugs and shot each other to death. One man lifted his hat just enough for Clary to glimpse his red skin. He gave a slight nod as they approached.

"It doesn't look like anything aligned to the heavens," she muttered. "It looks like a prison."

"You'll see soon enough how woefully wrong you are," he replied with a complacent smile. "Hey there, Clancey." He patted the red-skinned man on the shoulder as he passed them, leading Clary into the building.

The inside was surprisingly bright, furnished with wooden tables and chairs. The cushions were brightly colored, reminding Clary of Magnus's flashy suits. A woman beckoned them to sit wherever they liked to. Jace led her to a table at the corner. She tentatively sat on a chair.

"Is Isabelle really that bad at cooking?" she asked. Jace handed her the menu, leaning back on his chair.

"Actually, she's fantastic. When you want her to badly poison your arch-enemy, that is," he amended. He leaned over to flip the menu in her hands to the last pages. Clary glimpsed lists of animal blood and raw steak. "Otherwise, you don't want to go near her food. That's the human food section, by the way."

"Any recommendations?"

"The burgers with ricotta cheese are divine, I've heard," a familiar voice made Clary almost jump out of her skin. She turned to see Sebastian smiling down at her as he drew a chair from another table to sit next to her. "Nice of you to sneak out with Alice, Jace. You were the perfect excuse for me to avoid Isabelle's treacherous grasp. I wish I could say the same for her brother though." He bowed his head, wiping his dry eyes.

Clary could hear Jace swearing under his breath, but Sebastian ignored it. "I'll have that, then," she said timidly. She hated being stuck in the middle of a fight, which was precisely why she avoided parties with invitations to both werewolves and vampires. Though Magnus seemed to enjoy watching their childish dispute now and then.

"I'm sure Jace has explained, but let me introduce myself in person," he said with a polite smile. "I am Sebastian Verlac, temporarily staying at the Institute until the Lightwoods return. Oh, and I'll have the same," he told Jace, who scowled and called the waitress. Clary watched as he muttered to her. He looked as if he wanted Sebastian's pulsing heart for lunch.

"It was nice of you to offer your assistance the previous night," she replied. Though she was speaking to Sebastian, she was still eyeing Jace, who made no effort to hide his sudden bad mood.

"Oh, we're Shadowhunters. We're meant to help others," he shrugged. "It's been too quiet and peaceful at the Institute, anyway."

They sat there in awkward silence, though Sebastian seemed unfazed. The waitress handed out their food, which were indeed divine. Clary took a large bite out of her burger, her eyes slightly widening at the rich flavour. Even Magnus didn't cook this well. Jace seemed to notice her expression and managed to crack a smile.

"You still think this is a prison?" he asked. His plate of pasta was already half empty. There was a smear of sauce on his chin, indicating where half the content of his plates had gone.

"I am satisfied with the choice of abandoning your _parabatai_ for the meal here," she answered between bites. "But I still think the exterior can be improved."

"Nonsense," he said, wiping his chin with a napkin. "The true value of a restaurant comes from this." He waved his hands at the food on the table with relish. He wolfed down the remains on the dish. "Its exterior is proof that Taki's is not some third-rate restaurant that lures customers with fancy walls."

As soon as Clary finished her burger, Jace rose from his chair. Before Clary could protest, he pulled her to her feet. Sebastian merely glanced at him, gracefully wiping his lips with a napkin.

"He gets paid from the Clave," he briskly explained. "The lunch is on him."

Sebastian shrugged, and took out his wallet. Jace tugged her out of the place, Clary almost running to keep pace. Clary was curious and a little irritated with his obvious hatred of Sebastian, but she was wise enough not to comment on it. She followed him stalk into an alley.

"You're not going to wait for him?" Clary asked, though the answer was clear. She was sure Sebastian would manage to catch up anyway.

"Why bother? The sooner we're rid of him, the better," he replied. His voice was cool, but she could see the irritation stiffening the hard set of his shoulders. He was walking along the alley, his back to Clary. His fair hair was a glint of gold in the dimness. She was studying the swirling lines on the back of his neck when he abruptly stopped without warning. Clary bumped into him, face first. She was about to complain, but she could see his muscles tense. One arm was stretched in protection, the other reaching into his jacket.

Clary peered over his shoulders, and gasped. A corpse was slouched in the darkness, its neck and wrists slit. Blood pooled on the ground, still damp. Flecks of it stained the wall the corpse lolled against. There were scratches on the walls and a deep denture on the ground. The corpse's fingers must have dug into the concrete; his fingertips were bloodstained, and his nails— or claws, Clary noticed— were cracked. A pair of fangs slid out of his open lips.

"A vampire. But the blood isn't old, it couldn't have been more than a few hours," he frowned. "What was it doing in broad daylight?"

"The window's open," Clary whispered. "Maybe he jumped out to run away from something." _But he wasn't fast enough._ Jace raised his head to see where she was pointing. Curtains billowed in the wind. Clary tried to step forward to take a better look at the vampire's face, but Jace held her back. "I have to see him, Jace, he might be someone I know!"

She ducked under his arm and ran towards the remains of the vampire. However, she backed away immediately, sickened. His eyes were gouged out, and claw marks stretched over his face, which was contorted in agony. The deep gashes that tore his face made him unrecognizable.

"Do you know any vampires that should be notified?" Clary could hear Jace's soft voice. She didn't know she had been trembling until Jace's hands firmly held hers.

"I— I have to contact Raphael," she stammered. She could feel her burger churn in her stomach, the image of the murdered vampire branded beneath her eyelids. "He's at the Hotel Dumort."

"Are you welcomed there? You won't be attacked on sight?"

Clary shook her head. "I've been there before. They know me."

Jace held her firmly as he guided her out of the alley. She was glad to take her eyes off the broken corpse, the remains of a person that may have been slaughtered all because of her. When they reached the end of the alley, they stumbled into a very surprised looking Sebastian.

"What happened?" Sebastian looked alarmed. He was staring at Clary's pale face.

"A vampire was attacked and murdered. Go to the Institute, Seb, and contact the Clave. I'm going to take Alice to the nearby vampire clan." Jace's voice was curt. Sebastian looked confused, but nodded in response.

"Won't you be attacked though?" he asked.

"We'll manage," Jace replied. He and Clary raced to the nearby idling cab, leaving Sebastian standing bemused. He watched as the cab took a sharp turn at the corner and disappeared from sight.

* * *

 _Note:  
_ I'm going to be busy on Wednesday with the exams, so I'll just post it today.  
Thank you all for the feedback! I may not be replying, but I'm reading all of the reviews :)


	5. Chapter 5

The Hotel Dumort was located on a side street off 116th. The sign holding its name—an N altered into an R with paint—was dangling loose behind a tangled tree. The windows were all boarded up, and the entrance was blocked with old bricks. The decades had taken its toll on the once beauteous building. Clary had always wondered what it looked like in the past, when the elegant curlicues and the graceful fleur-de-lis welcomed posh guests wearing exquisite suits and dresses. Now the hotel was far from dignified; a foreboding air clung to the building, and the shadows it cast seemed thicker and darker than any other shade.

"The only entrance is blocked." Jace observed.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Clary replied. Jace made a face at her. She approached the bricked-up door and kicked it violently. Her toes hurt, but she ignored the pain. "Raphael! Wake up!"

There was a long silence. Jace was about to suggest climbing the pipes when a flicker caught his eyes. They turned to see dark-eyed boy standing behind them, a grumpy scowl etched on his honey-coloured face. He was translucent; Jace could see the dead trees along the streets through him.

"It's the middle of the day, Clary. This had better be good," the boy grumbled. He was the leader of the vampire clan of New York. Clary had asked Magnus how old he was, but the only answer had been 'old enough'. Magnus had persuaded her into trusting the ancient boy with the truth of her identity. "And did you _have_ to bring a Nephilim to my doorstep?" He glared at Jace, spitting out the word _Nephilim_ as he would say _cockroaches in my deathbed_. He didn't seem to enjoy the fact that Jace was a head taller than him, much to Jace's delight.

Clary saw in his eyes that Jace was about to make a rude remark, so she hurriedly interceded. "I'm a Nephilim, too, Raphael."

"And frankly, you're the only hope I see in them. Apart from the matter that you seem to be oblivious to the fact that I am obviously nocturnal," he shot her a black look. "And you know very well how much of a pain it is to use a Projection in the middle of the day."

"While all this talk about waking you from your damnation is very amusing," Jace said, his voice far from amused. "You should know there's a dead vampire near Taki's. Tortured, by the looks of it, and seeing how he wasn't staked or burned, someone must have thrust holy water down his gullet."

His words seemed to slap away Raphael's sleepy annoyance. His dark eyes were sharp, intent on Jace's gold. "Was it the filthy Children of the Moon?"

"There were claw marks, but I'd say it looked more demonic than wolfish," he replied. Clary could see the image of the torn corpse haunting her mind. She shuddered inwardly.

"Who was it?" Raphael asked, turning to Clary.

"His face was torn beyond recognition. I'm sorry, Raphael."

At her words, his lips hardened into a thin line of fury. His ancient eyes flared, and Clary could see the murderous rage burning inside them. Only his voice was calm and collected, the coldness of his tone contrasted to the scorching rage inside. "Much as I would like to investigate, it is broad daylight, and I can only do so much in my Projection. I recognize the name of the place, so I will be there with my brethren as soon as darkness falls. Do not tamper with the scene, Nephilim."

Clary glanced at Jace. She could see that he wanted to snap back, but he managed to restrain himself and merely nod. He really was a better person than what she gave him credit for.

"Raphael," she said, staring into Raphael's deep eyes. "Magnus thinks it may be Valentine, torturing out information about me."

A spark of realization flashed across his face. "I see," he said. "If that is the case, I should issue warnings to the others to never speak of you." His eyes softened a little, and his eyes traveled to Jace. "Take care of Clary, and protect her with your life."

"You sound like a helicopter dad," Clary grumbled. She tugged at Jace's hand. "Let's go. Raphael needs his beauty sleep."

To her surprise, Jace wrapped his fingers between hers. She glanced up at him, but he was looking away. She turned to wave at Raphael, but he had already vanished.

"We'll be there at the scene at nightfall, too!" Clary shouted at the hotel. There was no reply, but she was sure Raphael heard. Then she followed Jace, hand in hand, into the busier streets of New York.

* * *

Clary padded across the stone floor of the greenhouse, breathing in the colourful scents of flowers. She could see the pink evening sky and the busy streets of Manhattan beyond the glass screens, the faint light of the falling sun illuminating the delicate blossoms. She could feel Jace's gaze on her, but it didn't make her nervous. She bent to brush her fingers against the tender petals of a flower she could not name. Jace had brought her here, telling her that it was the perfect place for relieving bad memories. She saw what he meant; it was a magnificent place.

"It's beautiful here," she breathed. Jace was watching her, leaning on the door with his arms crossed. The curves and zigzags of angelic Runes crossed his muscular arms. She could see the years of training and hunting he had experienced through the firm lines of his body.

"I'm glad you like it," he replied. She couldn't help but notice how his gold eyes glinted in the muted lights of the evening when his lips twisted into his gentle smile. His eyes were no longer pained with the self-loathing she had seen under the faltering streetlights. Maybe he had needed a friend, someone other than his adoptive brother and sister who always looked at him with glimmering expectation in their eyes. Maybe he had needed a heavy weight taken off his shoulders once in a while. "I should bring you here often. It's even more breath-taking at midnight."

"I'd love to." She slowly turned in a full circle, trying to memorize the scene. She was an artist when she wasn't hanging out with her friends. This was a scene she would love to paint. She could visualize the canvas she would fill. And Jace was in the middle of it. He stepped towards her, his footsteps soft against the stone like a cat.

"I've noticed that the Downworlders seem to love you a lot," he said. His eyes held the curiosity of a daring kitten eyeing a ball of string. "Almost like one of their own. Both the pack and the vampire clan is so protective of you, and that must be quite a feat."

"You know, under that despise and hatred for Shadowhunters, Downworlders really are pretty curious about us," she said. "I was the only Shadowhunter they watched grow up, and I guess they felt like they were raising a child. I shouldn't say this, but I've never missed my mother nor the presence of a father. I have so many."

"You had a happy childhood."

"Who wouldn't be happy, surrounded by such loving people?" Clary clambered onto a gazebo in the middle of the greenhouse. Jace followed her and perched beside her. Clary peered into his eyes as he returned her gaze. She had answered a great deal of questions regarding her life with the Downworlders, yet she hardly knew anything about him. She hesitated before she opened her mouth, fearing the reproachful look she had seen on her arrival at the Institute. "Did you? Have a happy childhood, I mean."

She could see him stiffen a little, surprised by the unexpected question. Then he relaxed, stretching his neck backwards before replying. "Do you remember when you asked me why my ravishing existence was tainted with the gloom of self-loathing?"

"Those weren't the exact words, but yes, it was something along the lines."

"I told you I was taken in by the Lightwoods when I was ten." His voice was a sigh, a look of pain piercing his angelic countenance. Clary was about to tell him that it was alright, he didn't need to hurt himself to satiate her curiosity, but a slow shake of his head silenced her. "I had been living with my parents until then. I was alone reading books at our garden. My parents had loved books, novels that bored me. But they smelled of my parents, and it was their scent that made me flip through the pages. My parents were out on a mission against a demon, as usual. It was a very ordinary day.

"But something had gone terribly wrong. I don't know what happened, but my parents raced back to the safety of the wards around our manor. They were perfectly safe and would have remained that way if it weren't for my foolishness. The demon mimicked my parent's voices, calling out my name desperately. I ran out, following the voice, right out of the wards." His words were bitter, harsh, as if he were whipping himself inwardly. "I don't remember much after that. I only recall the black smoke that swallowed me up, the nightmares that still haunt me, and screaming so hard my throat seemed to rip apart. When I woke up, my parents were dead with punctures where their hearts should have been. My hands were wet with blood. _Their_ blood."

"Oh, Jace," Clary whispered. She could only imagine the heavy spear of guilt and agony that poisoned his heart. No wonder he had abhorred himself, trying to get himself hurt by flinging himself into needless trials and trouble. Hiding it all with the air of superiority must have pained him even more.

"They loved me, and I was their weakness, their destruction," he mumbled. Angry tears wet his eyes, but they refused to fall. It was as if he thought he wasn't worthy even of his own anguish. "To love is to destroy, Clary. Love is a weakness."

"No," she murmured. She leaned her head against his chest, feeling the fierce beating of his heart against her cheek. "You have your _parabatai_ , and your sister, Isabelle. Being with them must make you stronger. You know that, Jace."

"Perhaps," came the whispered answer. "But when the moment comes, I will be their weakness, and they will be mine. Clary, I've suffered so much, but I still can't learn from my mistakes." The grief in his voice was agonizing even to her.

She knew that anything she says would fail to comfort him. She was the one who was loved by many, all her life. He was the one so utterly destroyed by love, yet had too kind a heart to pull away. Their lives were far too different, two distinctive worlds that were only barely connected with the bridge of the present.

"I know that this will mean nothing to you now," she murmured, eyes closed as she felt the rise and fall of his chest. She hoped that her willingness to lean on him and depend on him would help him open his agonized heart. "But love was what saved me from a miserable life. And I wish you'll allow me to save you from yours."

He said nothing, but he did shift his position so that she could lean on him more comfortably. The light touch of his breath tickled her cheeks. She could feel his warm fingers wrap themselves on her shoulders in a soothing manner. As if she were the one who needed soothing. Clary opened her eyes, gazing at the darkened sky. It was already a deep shade of indigo, the ghost of the white moon creeping up. She could see the spectral glows that some flowers emitted, like a fairy's heart cradled inside a halo of gilded petals. She knew Jace was laying his golden eyes on the same otherworldly scene.

The moment was so peaceful yet so fragile that it ached the deeper parts of Clary's heart. Its brittleness was not unlike Jace. Longing for the moment to stretch to immortality, she painted the canvas of her mind; of a red-haired girl leaning on a shining angelic boy, the glimmer of the aureate flowers, and the blurred lights of the distant city.

* * *

 **Note**

I've managed to find the time to read the first chapter (which was really the summary) of the story the Guest mentioned in the reviews.  
I found that it was a completely different story, so I don't think anyone will have to worry :)  
Thanks for the note, and please feel welcome to leave any reviews!

I would also like to add that my mother tongue is not English, so even though I look through my chapters multiple times, there may still be errors. I hope you'll understand :)


	6. Chapter 6

The five Shadowhunters stood by the alley near Taki's. When Clary had announced that she was going to investigate the vampire corpse, Isabelle had eagerly followed, dragging Alec along with her. Despite being a sickly shade of grey, Alec had complied without any complaints. The tall boy kept shooting Clary glares of mistrust, but he didn't seem well enough to express it in words. Isabelle was cordial enough; she was excited by the new adventures Clary brought. Though she did express a hint of resentment for fleeing with Jace from her soup. Sebastian, being the one in charge of the underage Shadowhunters, followed, much to Jace's annoyance.

It was Jace that bothered her. When she reluctantly tugged him out of the greenhouse, he had followed her quietly. When she had glanced at him after shutting the door behind her, his expression was closed. There was no sign of any emotion in his eyes. When he spoke to the Lightwoods or made rude remarks at Sebastian, the flicker of emotion was back in his eyes, but soon disappeared when Clary spoke. Maybe she had unintentionally hurt him during their conversation. She didn't bother to ask. If he was being sulky, then let him. She had had enough experience with sullen vampires to learn that sulky silences were best handled by simply leaving them alone.

Raphael stepped out from the darkness of the alley, his face scrunched into an angry frown. He was followed by a pale vampire with short black hair in springing locks. It was Lily, Raphael's second-in-command. She nodded in greeting at Clary, but pointedly ignored the other Nephilim.

"We will take care of his corpse in our way," she said. She was trying her best to ignore the presence of Clary's companions by staring at Clary only. Her eyes were cold, but Clary knew her well enough to know that she was hiding her sorrow. "Emil was a good vampire. We will see to it that he rests well in his final sleep."

"Emil," Clary gasped. The vampire mentioned was like a brother to Clary. He was the one who had taught her the rules of chess, and bought her the expensive paints and drawing utensils for Christmas. He was the one who had taught her the basics of art. She felt the strangle of guilt for not being able to recognize his features behind the gruesome ruptures that tore open his face.

"Also, we have found some strands of fabric on his nails," Raphael said, his voice grim. He handed Isabelle a neatly folded packet holding a strand of black string. "They were wet with blood, but the blood is not a vampire's. Being the self-proclaimed police of the Shadow World, you should know how to use it." There was a hint of thinly veiled contempt in his voice. He clearly blamed the Shadowhunters for the lack of protection.

"Our deepest regrets—" Sebastian began, but the stony-faced vampires walked past him. He smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "Well, that was fast. I think we owe them a patrol along the streets, though. I did promise Alice." He grinned down at her. Clary, who was struck by the shock of losing Emil, was barely able to return a shaken smile.

"We should split into groups," Jace suggested. He was using his stele as a file as he rubbed it against his well-trimmed nails. "It would be more efficient."

"Well, then, I'll go with Alice," Sebastian said, patting Clary on her shoulder. "You three were always a team." Alec nodded at his words and straightened his posture.

"No," Jace replied sharply. Everyone, including Clary, shot him a startled look at his fierceness. He stuck his stele into his pocket stubbornly. Clary couldn't help but notice how his gold locks were like heavenly flames contrasted to the black gear he was wearing. "I'll stick with Alice."

Alec seemed to want to argue, but Isabelle impatiently stomped her heels against the concrete floor. "Who cares whether whoever goes with whom. Let's patrol the streets, kick whatever demon we find back into the fiery embraces of Hell, and get back home." She glared at the others, daring them to argue. When no one answered, her lips curved in a satisfied smirk. "Come on, guys, let's get going."

Isabelle disappeared into the shadows, her long black hair trailing behind her like a set of dark wings. Alec shot a glance at Jace before racing after her, Sebastian following. Jace and Clary were left alone in the streets, Clary confused at his sudden change of manner. He had been pointedly ignoring her right before that moment, and now he was all smiles and pleasantry as he lifted himself from the wall he was leaning on.

"Come on then," he grinned. "You can't let the demons wait."

"What is up with you?" Clary muttered. He pretended not to hear as he stepped into the shadows. Clary stalked after him, grumbling at the fact that her partner was suffering from a multiple-personality disorder. She quickly glanced at the stains of blood where Emil had been. She used to believe that Emil was a permanent being on earth, never changing or aging, constantly by her side. He had promised that he would stand by her deathbed, holding her wrinkled hand in his. Now he was gone.

"You seem to know him well," Jace said. She didn't turn her gaze from the crimson smudges of sanguine fluid. Emil had taught her, wearing his usual jolly smile, that vampire blood remained red, even after an extended length of time. They had never known that it was his blood that would confirm the fact.

"He was precious to me," she replied, her voice trembling slightly. She cleared her throat in an effort to shake off the crawling bereavement.

"Must have been a pretty strong _encanto_ , to seduce even a Nephilim."

The words were a blow across Clary's face. Clary's green eyes widened with disbelief as she glared at the sneering boy. He made no effort to apologize. He simply looked down at Clary with an unsympathetic coldness in his gold eyes.

" _What did you say?_ "

"I said," he replied in a painfully slow manner, as if to hammer his words into Clary's skull. "That I have no sympathy for bloodsucking scum or a delusional girl who happily waltzes into his filthy bosom for an _encanto_."

His cold voice knocked the breath out of her lungs. She clenched her hands into fists and gritted her teeth. Her vision blurred. She stared at the scarlet stains, pushing back the furious tears. Her nails dug into her palm, but the pain was dull compared to the sharp slap of his words. She turned her glare to his hard gold eyes, seething with rage as she took a step towards him. She did not care about the warm droplet that slid down her flushed cheek. He didn't back off has she strode toward him, nor did he flinch when her hand cracked against his face.

"Don't you dare," she growled through her teeth. "Don't you ever _dare_ speak of Emil that way."

Her hands were shaking, her breaths escaping her lips in gasps. Her slap had no effect on him; his expression was perfectly composed, his eyes calm. Only a red tinge on his pale face indicated that she had hit him at all. She raised her hand again, ready to strike his face once more. He merely watched, daring her to do it. Then she froze in place. She could feel a blazing, putrid breath falling on her like a deadly mist. She slowly looked up.

Almost invisible against the black sky, a beast stood on the building. It had a vaguely humanoid shape, except its neck was long and blistered, twisting like a serpent. The head sitting on top of it had hair like a mass of black wire, and no features save a giant mouth filled with rows of needle-like teeth. On the centre of its slimy ebony body was a gigantic eye that was completely black with no whites, slowly blinking down at her. She could see the neck curling, rolling around the demon's body like a thick coil—

And she was thrust to the ground. Jace, a flaring seraph blade in his hands, stood where she had been moments ago, and sunk to the ground as the demon's neck sprung like a hunting cobra, its teeth sinking into his arm. There was a cry of pain and a guttural snarl as blood spattered Clary. She screamed, her hands reaching out for Jace. She saw the spark of anger in his eyes, his face contorted in a grimace of pain, blood smeared on his chin. Before Clary could act, the demon burst into cinders, raining down on Clary and Jace. The seraph blade, which had been buried in the creature's thorny palate, was burning as bright as ever through the black ichor that clung to it like thick oil.

"By the Angel," he gasped. His hair was black from the ashes. He coughed, heaving for breath. He winced in pain. "It hurts…"

"I can see that, Captain Obvious," she muttered. She stared at his bleeding arm and the teeth, long as her index finger, that had snapped off the creature's gums and punctured his pale skin. If it hadn't been for Jace, it would have been her neck. She shook her head hard, shaking off the weight of dread on her mind. "This is going to hurt." She yanked the teeth out.

"That hurts!" Jace yelped indignantly.

"Trust me, you deserve it," she replied. "Sorry if it's expensive."

"If _what's_ expensive?" Jace demanded. Clary tore the hem of his shirt in answer. As she proceeded to bind his upper arm to prevent the venom from spreading further, she could feel Jace chuckle weakly. "If you wanted to see my bare chest, you could have just asked. It would have been much less painful that way."

"The only thing I'm seeing is your belly button," she replied. She hesitated. Magnus did not expert in healing magic. If he were here in person, he may be able to drain the wound of the poison, but the ring held only a paltry portion of his magic; it would hardly be enough. "Goddammit," she swore under her breath. "This is only an act of healing. Do not get any other ideas, Herondale."

Before Jace could ask questions, she lifted his limp arm to her lips. Trying to ignore her rapid heartbeat, she rested her lips on the punctures and sucked. She spat out the blood and the black venom, gagging a little at the bitter taste. Then she repeated it, until there was no trace of the inky liquid in his crimson blood.

"Are you part vampire?" His voice was feeble. Clary ignored it as she placed a hand gently on the wound. A soft, pulsing blue light spread from her fingers, washing over the wound. She willed the magic to cleanse the bloody gape of any possible infection. She could feel Jace's eyes on her as she worked on his arm. She took out her stele. She brought down its point onto his skin, her own strength traveling through her fingers, her stele and into his skin as she drew the firm lines of an _iratze_. His skin slowly knitted together, the blood stopping as his wound mended. She deftly undid the bind on his arm. He blanched at the sudden tingle.

"I'm taking you to Magnus," Clary announced. Jace raised an eyebrow. He swung his arm around.

"Feels normal to me," he replied. "Besides, do you have enough magic to Portal us?"

"Nah, but I do have something better than that," she replied. She brought down her stele onto the concrete floor, which was now stained with both Emil and Jace's blood. The lines and curves overlapping each other grew more complex with every stroke, glowing faintly in the darkness of the night. When she completed the last stroke triumphantly, a Portal appeared in the ground like petals unfolding from a small bud into a full blossom. Laughing at Jace's widened eyes, she grabbed his wrists and pulled him into the swirling lights of the Portal.

* * *

 **Author's Note**

Thank you for all your reviews! I'm so happy that so many people are reading and enjoying my story. I was really expecting no one to read this :)  
Feel free to tell me what you think about the characters and their actions, I want to know if I'm expressing my imagination correctly.  
Ask me any questions you have; I'll answer them as long as the answers don't include spoilers and make sure I don't omit such details later on.  
All in all, thank you for taking an interest in my story :D


	7. Chapter 7

Magnus held a photograph of five-year-old Clary in his hands. He cradled the glass frame fondly. It was a fragment of the day when his warlock friends, Catarina Loss and Ragnor Fell had paid him an unexpected visit. He remembered laughing merrily when Ragnor had turned a deeper shade of emerald than his usual green complexion.

"You have a child?" Ragnor had demanded, horrified as he looked down at the curious red-headed scrap. "What kind of trouble did you make now, Magnus!"

"Oh, calm down, my sweet peapod," Catarina had smiled as she crouched in front of Clary. She waved affectionately at the child, who beamed and gave her a small high five. The blueness of her skin did not deter the small girl from leaping into her arms in a friendly hug. "She looks nothing like Magnus, fortunately for her."

Magnus had been affronted by her last words and tried to shoo them out. But Clary had already taken a liking to his colourful friends, and whimpered when they made a move to leave. Even Ragnor had risen from his sullen silence and managed to creak his lips into a hint of a smile. He was slightly annoyed when the little Clary had decided to call him Peapod, but it didn't stop him from holding her in his arms in an act of rarely portrayed tenderness. He had tried to entertain Clary with miniature fireworks that sparked from his fingers, but they only startled her. Catarina had had to hold a sobbing Clary in her gentle embrace as she admonished the dismayed warlock.

Clary was impossible to not love; she was a sweet, innocent child, blissfully ignorant of the ugliness of her past and her parents' sins. Magnus had taken her in as a revenge to Valentine, to prove his evil beliefs were woefully wrong. But watching her grow up, devoid of the arrogance of Nephilim that Magnus had thought was carved in their DNA, made him forget his initial motives. She was a daughter he could never have otherwise, a child he could raise as his own. She was kind, loving, and a fierce friend to all Downworlders, who loved her equally fiercely. Even the sceptical Raphael was a caring brother to her. His surprising fondness had reminded Magnus of the siblings the vampire had in his past life.

When Magnus had finally told her of that night when Jocelyn had left her in Magnus's arms, and what monster her father was, she didn't seem surprised. She didn't flinch at the cruel tale of her father torturing a werewolf child in front of Magnus's eyes, and how he had plunged his blade into Magnus's back. She didn't smile when he described how Jocelyn had planned his downfall, and how Valentine had fled from the Clave. The Clave's inability to locate him did not puzzle her. She listened attentively to her parents' past, and to Magnus's surprise, leapt into his arms and hugged him in a firm embrace.

"Thank you," she had murmured. "Thank you for taking me in despite everything my father did to you, and forgiving my mother for taking part in his disgusting actions even briefly. I promise I will compensate for everything he did."

"You already did," was all he could say in reply.

Then he dropped the photograph with a loud clatter when Clary and the Herondale boy—his name was Trace or something—tumbled to the ground from a Portal that appeared on the ceiling of Magnus's apartment. Clary got up gingerly with a sheepish grin on her face.

"Oops," she laughed. "I guess I need some practice."

"Remind me to stay away from you and your stele," the boy grumbled. His black gear was stained with blood and black ichor. Magnus sighed at having to clean the carpet from the grubby splotches the boy made.

"Hey, Magnus," she waved at him. "We ran into a demon, and Jace got bitten. I did my best to help him, but I wanted to check if he's alright."

"So that's his name," Magnus said as he briskly held the boy's bloody arm up. There was a pale scar of a fading _iratze_. "I was fairly sure your name was Trissa."

"That's a girl's name," he mumbled as he sat on the ground, drained of strength, watching Magnus's glowing fingers lightly touch the scar.

"You did a good job, though if he was anybody important, I would call Catarina to double-check," he addressed Clary, ignoring Jace's grumbling. "But he isn't, so I'm not going to risk annoying my blue buddy for this prissy little angel."

"Catarina's a warlock specialized in healing," Clary explained to a confused Jace.

"But I _am_ important," he said, shaking his head. "The universe revolves around me."

"I think he's delirious," she told Magnus.

"And I think he has too much glitter on him," Jace said to nobody in particular.

"He needs sleep," Magnus snapped. He would not stand insulted by a Herondale. In fact, he had enough Herondales for the millennium. His fondness for William Herondale, one of the few Nephilim he cared enough to call a friend, did not outweigh the headache this boy was giving him. The boy's resemblance to his father, whom Magnus had met in an unpleasant encounter with Valentine's Circle, did not help. He flicked his fingers, and Jace was levitated and thrust into the couch none too gently. He slightly grunted, but made no move to retaliate. "You should stay here for the night. Another Portal travel to the Institute would drain him more."

Clary nodded. She gave Magnus a quick hug and turned to leave for her room. He caught her hand and lightly tapped the jewel on her gold ring. When the sapphire glowed with replenished magic, Clary smiled at him with gratitude.

"Clary," he whispered. He relaxed when he heard a small snore from the couch. "I appreciate your effort to cooperate with the Shadowhunters to protect the Downworld. For all it's worth, you have my blessings." He hesitated as he gazed into Clary's clear green eyes, sharply reminded of the three-year-old child peacefully asleep in his arms. "But don't put too much trust in the Nephilim. I've got a bad feeling about this, and you know a warlock's bad feelings should never be ignored."

"The last time you got a bad feeling with Peapod making pasta, the only thing that happened was the sauce getting a little burned," she laughed at the memory. "You worry too much, Magnus. I'll be completely fine. Jace is a jerk, but he's a good Shadowhunter."

"Ragnor's pasta was a disaster," he shuddered. "You're just too kind to admit it."

Clary gave him a stern look but smiled as she turned to walk to her room. "It might have been a little salty," she admitted before she closed the door behind her. Magnus wore a fond smile as he snapped his fingers, turning the lights off. He glanced at the boy asleep on the couch. The couch was too small for him; his legs dangled off the edge. With a small sigh and a flick of his hands, a blanket summoned from a nearby shop gently fluttered onto the gold haired boy.

A pretty boy Magnus liked, but boys who knew their good looks and their effect on others just weren't worth it. But he had seen the way Jace's intent gold eyes followed Clary as if she had some kind of magnetic force. He had also seen the pain in his eyes, gold eyes that resembled the agonized blue of William Herondale when he had turned up soggy on Magnus's doorstep. He could hear Will's voice, beseeching the warlock to take off the curse that killed everyone he dared love. Magnus shook off the memories, and strode into his bedroom.

* * *

"See? I told you there's no need to worry!" Clary heard Isabelle saying as they entered the Institute. "This is Jace we're talking about."

Alec mumbled something, but Clary couldn't hear the exact words. Jace grinned at Alec. "Have some faith in me, brother. I have yet to see a demon who can best me."

"Maybe it wasn't you we were worried about," Sebastian answered instead. "We thought you were being the bastard you always are, and made Alice run off."

"He nearly did," Clary muttered, glaring at Jace. He shrugged.

"What happened? And why didn't you answer your phone?" Isabelle demanded. She seemed more annoyed about the missed call than the fact that they had been away for the whole night. Jace pulled out a phone from his pockets and held it out for Isabelle to see.

"Cracked. I need a new phone," he said with a frown.

"Where were you last night? We thought we heard a scream, but we couldn't find you." Alec demanded.

Before Clary could say anything, Jace shot her a look. "Oh, we just met some boring, nondescript mundane named Simon Lewis who couldn't find his way home. He seemed to be distraught about some vampires, so our Alice, being the hero of all mundanes, walked him home and found him a bottle of holy water to drink. His Jewish mother was so happy about having her son back that she offered a good night's sleep at her home. So, we complied."

Before the others could ask questions, he walked up the stairs. Clary, confused with the wild story with a mundane she had never heard of, stalked after him. She managed to catch up with him before he entered the training room.

"What was that about?"

"I have a reputation to uphold, Clary. I can't go around telling people that I nearly fainted from being bitten by some minor demon," he said. "Besides, they probably don't buy the story anyway."

"Is there really a mundane called Simon Lewis in New York?" Clary asked, her voice doubtful. Jace choked a short laugh.

"I don't know, Clary, and I honestly don't care. He sounds very boring to me," he replied. He paused before he opened the door. "Thank you for treating my wounds," he said in an odd voice.

"Thank you for saving me," she said. Standing there with Jace reminded her of his outburst the previous night. Her mood immediately darkened. She was grateful for his rescue, but that didn't mean she forgave him for speaking about Emil like that. "I'll be going then."

Before Jace could stop her, she ran up the staircase, taking two stairs at a time. A moment later, she heard the heavy doors to the training room shut. She bit her lip and leaned against the handrail. She had lost two of her dearest friends. She was too flustered the past night to dwell on it, but as she stood in the empty stairwells of the Institute, she could feel the emptiness sinking into her. A sense of profound loneliness struck her like a tidal wave, again and again. She sank into her knees and wept, unaware of the golden gaze that lingered on her small shape, so fragile in the giant halls of the Institute.

* * *

 **Author's Note**

I'm so happy to see so many people following my story! I hope everyone's enjoying it :) Hopefully you're not following because it's such a terrible story that it's hilarious :/

As an answer to N manama's review;  
I guess I wasn't very clear in my writing :( My apologies for that.  
Jace is supposed to be neat (Clary's clothes were in a neat pile when he fetched them from Magnus for her), and he ransacked his room in search for 'something'. That 'something' is going to be revealed very soon. I'll try to be more precise in future writings :)

Thanks for the review! Again, feel free to write reviews!


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note**

I've been listening to Hush - Lasse Lindh as I worked on this particular chapter. I even took a little snippet of the lyrics. Maybe you'd like to listen to it as you read this chapter. :) I can't seem to be able to post the link here, but you'll find it easily enough on youtube

Oh, and the semester has finished, so I have more time on my hands. I may update more often than before.  
Thank you all for following/favorite-ing my story! It means a lot to me.

* * *

The greenhouse was Jace's favourite place at this time of the night. It was a safe haven, a giant, alluring dreamcatcher that shielded him from his usual nightmares. The Lightwoods had allergies, and Sebastian didn't appreciate the greenhouse for its wild beauty, so Jace often visited the place for solitude. He certainly did not expect the red-head sitting on the stone bench, staring at the bright city just beyond the glass windows.

He stood there, between the door that severed the nightmares and the garden of seemingly eternal springtime. The moonlight spilling through the ceiling was illuminating the small girl, giving a silvery sheen to her fiery hair. Her presence seemed to bring out the bright colours of the flowers in the greenhouse; the angel's trumpets, the moonflowers, the small jewel-like buds peeping out from the twisting vines, they all seemed so full of life. She was an angelic statue guarding the miniature Garden of Eden, perfectly still in a serene silence. Only her slowly blinking eyes betrayed the fact that she was alive. There was a depth to her unmoving green irises that he could barely begin to fathom.

Then, he could hear the muffled chimes of a clock in a faraway room. Midnight. He dared not breathe as the emerald sepals of the flowers surrounding her opened. The pearly petals sprung from their confinements, a tinge of gold pollen dusting their surface. They gave a soft glow in the gloom of night like powdered witchlight. His lips involuntarily curved in a gentle smile when he heard the small, surprised intake of breath. Her eyes glinted in the faint light of the blossoms with awe. Watching the shift of emotions in her eyes, Jace felt as if he shared a subtle secret with the girl unwitting of his presence. He slowly turned back out of the room, cautious not to shatter her tranquil moment. Then, a clear voice rang through the silence.

"Jace? Is that you?"

Their eyes met as time itself seemed to slow. Clary had turned her gaze to him. Jace could do nothing but stare back, wondering if this too, was a dream. The air was still, so still that Jace had to restrain from shivering. Almost impulsively, he took a step towards her. His footsteps were tortuously slow, slow enough to give her time to warn him to back off. But she didn't. She calmly watched him advance, never taking her eyes off his. Eventually, he was standing in front of her, his back to the fuzzy lights of the city.

"May I sit?" Jace asked, his voice a muted murmur. When Clary gave a slight nod in answer, he proceeded to rest on the bench. He could feel Clary watching him as he stretched his shoulders, as casually as he could. "It's a beautiful place at midnight, isn't it? I always come here when I have nightmares."

"You have nightmares?" Disbelief coloured her voice as her eyebrows tugged into an endearing little frown.

"Always," he replied. He could almost see the demons in his nightmares, writhing and squirming as they tugged him into their infernal abyss. "Whatever the rumours say, I am not indestructible."

"Unfortunately for you, you are not the centre of gossip in the Downworld as you may believe," she said, a small smile creeping up her face. Despite her curved lips, Jace could recognize the sorrow in her eyes. Instead of questioning her, for he could guess the reason of the grief eating at her, he took out a small slip of paper from his pockets.

"Here, I wanted to show you this," he said. He handed her the photograph, which she took gingerly in her pixie-like fingers. "It's a picture of the Circle. My parents were members, but they betrayed Valentine before the Uprising."

A group of people were smiling at her as Clary studied their faces. A man who held himself in a proud, confident posture stood in the centre, his hair platinum blonde. There was a predative grace to him, the way his chin was up, a haughty glint in his eyes as he glared down at the camera. Beside him was a dark-haired man, studiously gripping his chin as he stared at something outside of the frame. Jace watched as Clary's gaze stopped at his face.

"I believe that's the alpha of the wolf pack," he whispered. "Lucian Graymark. He was the key to overthrowing the Uprising, along with your mother."

"I knew he was a part of the Circle," she said as her fingers stroked his contemplative features. "I've never seen him look so young, though."

Jace gently moved her fingers to the red-haired woman smiling at the camera. Her familiar green eyes were soft, a kind grin warming her features. "That's your mother, Clary," he said. "You look just like her."

Clary didn't say anything. Her fingers brushed against the old paper, trying to touch the blazing red hair of her mother. Jace watched as she sighed, her eyelids fluttering shut. He could tell she was relieving the small fragments of her memories. The act was identical to what he had done so many times as he grieved his parents' death when he had first come to the Institute. He intertwined his fingers between hers in an act of reassurance. Clary slowly opened her eyes at his touch. Jace couldn't help but notice how they held the same kindly brightness as her mother's eyes.

"The white-haired guy, there. Is he my father?" Jace nodded at her whispered question. He was a handsome, charismatic man; even though Jace had never met him in person, he could tell that an atmosphere demanding of attention clung to him. It reminded him of when Clary had burst into the bar to rescue the pack of wolves—for of course, there was no chance at all that Jace would be the one to lose. Yet unlike Valentine's imperious aura, Clary's was a warm, passionate sort—the kind of charisma a loving mother would have. Clary returned the photograph. Her fingers swept across his, leaving a tingling warmth. "Who are your parents?"

"Here, and here." Jace showed her the fair-haired couple, the man wearing a confident smirk, and the woman smiling uncertainly. His memories of their faces had ebbed away with the flow of time, but as he pointed them out to Clary, the images were thrust into his mind like a giant river. Instead of grief, the memories were lined with wistful yearning.

"Where did the gold eyes come from?" Clary asked, a subtle smile on her lips.

"A great mystery," he replied quietly. "A touch of the Angel, perhaps. That's what my mother used to say, anyway."

"She must have been a sweet woman," she murmured. Jace shrugged. She was a fragile lady, who feared loneliness more than anything. But you wouldn't call a person bent on massacring innocent Downworlders _sweet_ , even if she did betray the belief before it was too late. He loved her dearly, but that did not mean he was proud of her earlier actions.

"Remember when you said my room was messy?" Jace said instead. "I meant it when I said I was the _definition of tidiness_. I was just looking for this. I thought you would like to see it."

"Thank you," came the whispered gratitude. "It means a lot to me."

A heavy silence hung between them. Clary looked uncomfortable, but she didn't move away. Jace slowly put away the photograph, but the paper slipped through his fingers. He heard Clary make a small noise of exclamation—she bent down to pick it up—and suddenly, instinctively, he had his fingers cradling her face, his lips lightly pressing hers in a tender kiss.

He was hesitant at first—he was almost sure she would push him away. One hand cupped her small, delicate face, and the other held her in a slight embrace, ready to let go at the smallest resistance. To his surprise, her arms curled around his neck, pulling him closer to her. He could taste the warmth of her lips, and feel her heart flutter against his chest as she held him in an amorous caress. Her quick breaths were so sweet to his ears, like the elegant melody of a piano piece. His rib cages hurt, as though the bursting emotions in his heart were finally exploding, splintering his heart into a million pieces. He was falling for her, falling with broken wings that shed gilded feathers. Never had he been so desperate for the tug of gravity.

Then he pulled away reluctantly from her. He could feel the lingering warmth on his lips, which curled of its own accord. Clary looked shaken, her green eyes wide in wonder. They were just as bright as they had been when they were amber, full of the magic that Magnus had cast on her. Merely by glancing at her eyes, everything seemed clearer and sharper. He had learned from the times he thought of her that there was no point in asking why. Whenever he had tried to redirect his thoughts into something more practical—slicing demon throats, maybe, or even harassing Alec into surrendering his new jacket Jace had been eyeing for the past month—his mind eventually wandered back to Clary.

"Is it too late to apologize for my folly the previous night?" Jace finally said. Clary slowly shook her head. "Then I'm very sorry for everything I said that night. I wasn't being… rational."

Clary didn't reply, but she gazed at him understandingly. Maybe she did comprehend what was going on in his mind, even though he often failed to understand himself. Everything he did was an act of instinct or habit, from the years of huddling behind the quills of words. Of all the weapons he used, words were the sharpest, he had found. He was never afraid to use it to his advantage until he met Clary. Everything he said to her was later regretted in one way or the other.

"It's late," she whispered. Sure enough, Jace could hear a single, faint chime. He pulled her up by her hands, and clutched them tightly as they made their way down the stairs. He was conscious of her every breath and movement, though he tried very hard to wear a nonchalant look. Every step they took was a step he missed. He wished the path to their bedrooms were twice as longer than they are. He bit back a sigh when they eventually reached the familiar doors.

He extricated his fingers from hers. She turned to look up at him, an inquiring glint in her eyes. "Does this mean that you no longer think love is equal to destruction?"

Her words struck him like an axe. Everything had felt like a dream. He had irresponsibly acted on his whims as he would in a dream, not caring of the consequences he would simply wake up from. Reality rained down on him, but it was much too late. A sense of dread dawned on him. _What have I done?_ But of course he knew what he had done. He had ruined every pretence he had put on, trying to push her away from his dangerous emotions. He would be nothing but a threat to her, especially when she had such a treacherous enemy lurking in the shadows.

"You shouldn't have kissed me back," was all he could muster before shutting the door behind him, abandoning Clary in the gloom of the cold night. He stood there, his back to the door, all his senses keen on the girl standing alone outside. There was a long silence. He wondered if she were crying, and felt an unfamiliar urge to hold her in his arms and comfort her. When he heard the door across his close with a final click, his legs gave out under him. He sank to the ground, an eerie echo to the weeping Clary he had secretly watched, yet was unable to console. He felt an invisible dagger bury into his heart as he leaned against the door. All he could do now was hope that she was really angry with him, too furious to care about tonight's happenings.


	9. Chapter 9

Clary had roughly figured out the structure of the Institute by now. The doors creaked as she entered the dining halls. There were ordered Chinese food on the long table, with a grouchy looking Alec poking a plate with a chopstick he probably didn't know how to use. Isabelle waved at her.

"Didn't we have Chinese yesterday?" Clary complained as she sat down.

"Jace said he wanted mushu pork." Alec replied. He threw her a set of disposable chopsticks, which Clary expertly caught out of the air. He glared at the blonde boy sitting next to him wearing a prim smile. Clary didn't spare him so much as a glance as she casually split her chopsticks into two. She didn't have much of an appetite, so she fiddled with the wooden sticks.

Sebastian burst into the room, a packet in his hand. He was fully geared up, the black of his equipment making his pale face look even whiter. He grinned in greeting at Clary as he took the seat next to her. She managed a smile back. For some reason, his presence was unnerving. He set down the packet on the table, looking very pleased with himself.

"I've Tracked the owner of these strands," he announced. "It leads to some abandoned construction site, and it seems to be the perfect place for a serial killer to hide. The Sensor picked up some minor demonic signals, so I thought I'd need some of your help. Maybe Alice, since she can use magic?"

"What, only Alice? Why don't we all go?" Isabelle demanded.

"The demon signals were very minor. I don't think we need the entire crew to go tramping after the convict. It would only alert him of our presence. And, well, Izzy, you're not exactly the subtlest Shadowhunter in the planet," he smiled apologetically. "If we can, we should avoid making a mess with the demons and search the area as quietly as we can. No offence, but you go charging at a demon as soon as you see one."

"I say we all go," Jace said suddenly. Clary's eyes darted to him, but he avoided her gaze. "It's better than taking a risk. It's an unknown territory, and who knows what tricks the murderer has up his sleeves."

A frown tugged Sebastian's features, but quickly faded. He shrugged. "If you say so. Alec, are you coming too?"

"I'm the only one who can properly protect your reckless asses," he replied. He stood up, the plate of food in front of him untouched. "Let's go get geared up."

"I'm already geared up. See?" Jace spread his arms like a magician boasting his latest magical feat. "I was planning to go on patrol today, but this sounds much more exciting." Alec rolled his eyes and stalked out of the room. Isabelle nudged Clary, and lifted her out of her seat before she could retort.

"Why does everyone pull me off my seat?" Clary grumbled as she stomped out of the room. "I have legs, you know." As she closed the door behind her, she thought she saw the corner of Jace's lips twitch. She didn't linger to confirm it.

* * *

"Let's go," Jace said as he swiftly burned a Mark on his arm. Sebastian returned a quizzical glance.

"Didn't you want to bring the whole crew along?"

"I was lying, obviously. It's too dangerous," he said, pushing the stele back into his belt. "Stealth is the key for such a mission, and it would be impossible to leave Ali—I mean, Izzy behind. She hates missing the action."

"Alice," Sebastian murmured. "You don't want Alice to come, do you? What makes you think she's so enthusiastic about coming? She didn't say a thing there. She actually looked pretty grumpy, if you ask me."

"The thing is, Sebastian, no one did," he scowled. "She lost two Downworld friends, she would be bent on revenge. That would make her reckless. _That_ would ruin the lead we barely have."

"Fine then. Let's go before the others return."

They slipped out of the room, their footsteps silent against the marble floors. Jace noticed how Sebastian's movements were swift yet elegant, menacing yet graceful. It reminded him of a prowling black leopard. Looking at his face always gave Jace a strange, unpleasant sense of deja vu, as if Jace had seen him in a nightmare long ago. He leaped out the window—they were on the second floor of the cathedral—and landed softly like a cat. Jace followed, effortlessly landing in a perfect stance against the concrete.

Sebastian caught a cab, almost jumping into the seat. Jace climbed in as Sebastian called out an address to the driver, who stamped on the accelerator pedal as soon as Jace shut the door. The car lurched forward, and Jace bumped his head into the seat.

"Why the hurry?" Jace asked, rubbing his head in annoyance.

"We hardly have half an hour until the sun completely falls," he replied. "It's not far though, it will only take a few minutes to get there."

It took more than a few minutes. In fact, the moon was already visible in the darkening sky when they finally reached the unfinished building. Jace ignored Sebastian's grumbling about the terrible traffic and approached the construction site. The walls were bare and grey, slightly worn from the acid rain. Heaps of rebar lay dangerously by the gaping holes where the windows should be. A rusty metal door stood menacingly in front of him. A mere glance at the building sent tingles down Jace's spine.

" _Abrariel_ ," he drawled. A luminous blade shot out of the tube he held tightly. Sebastian, brandishing a _kindjal_ with a black star carved on its gleaming blade, placed a hand on the handle of the door. It turned with a sickening creak. The door was no less noisy as he cautiously pushed it forward. Jace tensed as Sebastian entered and beckoned for him to enter. His grasp on the seraph blade tightened as he noiselessly stepped into the darkness.

"Jace," Sebastian whispered. Jace, every muscle tensed for an attack, turned to face him. He was oddly at ease, his _kindjal_ loose in his grip. There was a glint on his fingers that caught Jace's eye. A single silver ring was on his index finger. He could have sworn it wasn't there before. Tension grappled Jace's insides at his strangely gleeful voice. "Why do you always make things more complicated?"

"What?"

"You never did like me, did you?" Sebastian mused. His _kindjal_ was back in its scabbard now, and a hint of a playful smirk was on his lips. "You never trusted me, but you were stupid enough to come here, all on your own. Not the brightest crayon in the box, I see."

Jace did not answer. He glared at the boy, desperately trying to make sense of the situation. Then, one by one, gleaming red eyes appeared in the darkness. He could make out silhouettes of demons. Malicious grunts filled the building, and a faint sound of scales scraping against the ground made him grit his teeth. He took out a witchlight from his pockets and held it in front of himself, letting its holy light illuminate the room. There were six demons watching him with hunger in their glimmering insect eyes, each shaped like scorpions covered in coal black scales, all of them the size of horses.

"It's a trap," he breathed. Sebastian's grin widened.

"I was planning to kidnap Alice once she got here, but you just had to barge in," he murmured. "Though of course, she's not who she claims to be. Did Clary honestly think that would work?"

 _He knows Clary's name._ "Who are you?" Jace demanded.

"I honestly wished you would ask," Sebastian laughed, a hint of insanity in his dark eyes. His fingers brushed through his black hair, revealing the pale white roots. Then it struck him, why Sebastian had looked so familiar. He was a shocking twin to the haughty man standing proudly in the centre of the picture he still had in his pocket. "Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern, at your service." He mocked a polite bow, his white teeth a deadly glint as he grinned ear to ear.

 _Valentine's child._ And he wasn't the sweet gossamer child that Clary was.

"Goodbye, Herondale," he whispered. "I'll miss you." Sebastian—or Jonathan—touched the silver ring on his finger. His instincts kicking in, Jace leapt towards him, but it was already too late. He twisted the ring, and vanished. Vanished, like a cloak of invisibility had enveloped him in a single swoop. Jace cursed as he landed on nothing.

The demons were moving in, their movements cautious yet greedy as their scaled legs scraped against the ground menacingly. Jace took the cue to launch onto the nearby demon, slicing a deep wound on its back as he slid down its already disintegrating back. He kept his back to the cold wall. Being completely, hopelessly surrounded could mean instant death. At least he would have his back protected. Even as the snarling mass of dripping fangs and poisonous stings advanced hungrily, a crazy sense of relief descended on him. Thank the Angel it was him and not Clary. Not Clary.

* * *

"Sebastian!" Isabelle gasped as the boy rushed into the room, nearly tearing the door apart. He was panting hard, his eyes a frantic blaze.

"No time to—explain," he managed to spit. "Jace is in danger. My—fault. I insisted on leaving you behind—"

" _And you left him to fend for himself?_ " Alec growled. He pinned Sebastian to the wall, murderous rage rolling off him like steam.

"He pushed me—away from harm, told me—to get help" he pleaded. "No time—we need to go, _now_."

Alec dropped him to the ground in disgust. Sebastian fell, his legs giving out under him. His cheeks were damp, but whether it was tears or sweat, Clary couldn't tell.

"Where is he?" Alec demanded.

"The site, I'll take you there," he said as he gulped for breath.

"Sebastian, is there a restaurant, building, _whatever_ nearby?" Clary demanded. She already had her stele in her hand, ready to draw the rune. He nodded, and muttered a restaurant Clary recognized as one of Magnus's favourite places. The stele's tip was bright as a star as she furiously scribbled on the glazed marble floor. The familiar rectangle of glowing light rose from the ground, and Clary could hear the startled gasps. She ignored them, and raced into the floating image of the restaurant, knowing that the others would follow.

She stumbled as she stepped into the streetlights. She felt Alec's hands push her as he staggered into the streets behind her, but they quickly grabbed her before she could fall. She could smell the scent of the night, but with it a stench of death and decay. Isabelle was already bolting towards the source of the malodor, her whip snaking out into her palm as she sprinted. Sebastian, though he was paler than usual with exhaustion, was running alongside her. Clary shot after them, with Alec following close behind. His presence was reassuring, and she knew he was more than capable of defending her from whatever horror that may exist behind her back.

Isabelle didn't hesitate to viciously punt the door off its feeble hinges. They burst into the room, ready to debilitate any infernal being. Instead, all they saw was Jace, covered in painful scorch marks and crimson blood, lying still in a puddle of venom that was slowly eating his gear. He looked strangely peaceful, face cleared of any disturbing emotion. His seraph blade was stained with ichor, and a dimmed witchlight lay inches from his hands.

" _No!_ " A scream tore its way from Clary's lungs as she raced to the boy, her fingers trembling as she reached for her stele. She pulled him away from the burning puddle, droplets of it singeing her skin. She managed to hold herself together to carve an _iratze_ into his skin, but only the minor cuts seemed to heal. His face was still a deathly white. "You are not going to die on me, you idiot!"

"He—he's not dead. I can feel it," Alec murmured. He sat next to Clary, working on unclasping Jace's gear. "But not for long, if he doesn't get treatment soon." He revealed a wound on Jace's waist, oozing blood and green, viscous venom. Clary felt sick. This was not a wound she could tend to as she had before.

"We need you to Portal, Alice," Isabelle said in a steely voice. "Whatever you did back there, we need you to do it again, _now_."

But her words were lost to Clary. Thin slips of breath slid out from between Clary's clenched teeth. The world was a spinning daze, and all she could see was the blood that stained the floor. Jace's blood. It would have been her blood if she had ignored Jace and went with Sebastian instead. The cretin had saved her, _again_. And she couldn't bear to forgive herself for letting herself be rescued by his sacrifices. The self-loath that had gnawed at Jace now contaminated her mind, like a poisonous plague threatening to wipe them all out.

She felt a reassuring touch on her shoulders. She turned to see Sebastian, his face grim and pained. He pressed her stele that she had unknowingly dropped back into her palm. Her despair burned through the stele and into the ground, the petals of the rune spreading into the beauty of a Portal. She let the comforting caress of the Portal's darkness envelop her, falling into the rips and folds of the dimension.

* * *

 **Author's Note**

Sorry for the late update despite promising I'll update more often. I needed to wind off a little from all that murderous school work.

And in an answer to the reviews; yes indeed, I'm a fan of Goblin, and I'm honestly surprised I'd meet one here :) I listen to its OSTs a lot lately. I like their mysterious atmosphere.

I'm glad that you liked the chapter along with the song! I tried my best to make the chapter as sweet as I could. I also tried my best on the last chapter to make Jace emotionally stifling. _He kissed her and now he's claiming that he don't goddamn love her!_ I would have kicked his sorry butt if I could, but I also wanted to show you how traumatized he is by his experience. I hope I've expressed it well, but I'm writing it down here just in case I'm not that good of a writer.

Anyway, thank you for the reviews! Everyone is always more than welcome to give me feedback :D


	10. Chapter 10

Clary anxiously watched as the pulsing blue mist of Magnus's magic fell over Jace like a cloud. He lay frightfully still on the hospital bed Magnus had summoned. He had assured a stern Clary that no one would notice; however, Clary wasn't convinced. Jace's breathing had eased, but he still wasn't waking up. The venom Magnus had managed to drain from him lay in a glass vial on the oak table. It was a lime-green viscous substance that churned inside the vial, a miniature whirlpool of disease and death.

Magnus had tiredly announced to the Shadowhunters that he had done all he could, and all they can do now was wait. He forbade anyone but Clary to come near him. The others had fallen asleep on the floor of Magnus's Hogwarts-themed living room. Magnus had a habit of choosing a different theme for his room every midnight, but tonight he was simply too exhausted to care.

Clary carefully held Jace's hand. It was cold, almost like the icy touch of vampire skin. He looked like Snow White in her glass coffin, except instead of a coffin the blue mist encased him in a translucent blanket. He looked so fragile and vulnerable, despite the fact that he was Jace. The best Shadowhunter in his generation, or so he had boasted. With all the sharpness gone in his unconscious slumber, he looked like the boy he was; not yet fully grown, but not a child either.

But the frail boy that lay barely breathing in front of her was capable of dispatching a herd of demons on his own, though he couldn't avoid getting badly stung in the process. He had held on, despite the dizzying agony, long enough to deliver the final demon back to its infernal home dimension. He was, in fact, the best Shadowhunter Clary knew. When she had arrived, she had almost been too late. There were strings of black veins on his face, poison running through every capillary. She had been sure that he was gone. But he endured enough for her to bring him to Magnus. He was both fragile and strong.

"Alice?" Clary turned to see Sebastian sleepily rubbing his eyes. He stood behind the line Magnus had drawn, threatening to set fire on anyone who went so much as a step beyond it.

"Oh, sorry. Did I wake you?"

"No, not at all," he smiled. "I was just worried about Jace. It's my fault he's like that…" Sebastian trailed off, biting his lip.

"You didn't know there would be so many demons, Sebastian," she said. She felt a twinge of guilt; she had been secretly blaming Sebastian for the reckless venture. "Whoever it was must have seen you two coming, and summoned more demons." She tentatively placed Jace's calloused hand to his side and rose from where she had been kneeling. She winced as the painful tingles ran down her legs. "I should go to sleep, too. There's nothing I can do."

"Want some fresh air? I had nightmares, so I was thinking of going on a walk," he offered. Clary was hesitant—she couldn't forget how Jace didn't trust the seemingly harmless boy for some reason. There was no logical reason behind the suspicion, but she couldn't help but notice how Jace ended up after an attempted investigation with no one but Sebastian at his side. A sense of unease filled her every nerve; however, she nodded anyway. She was certain she would suffer from nightmares, too.

It was already close to dawn. Clary could feel the receding darkness in the air, the scent of night evanescing. Sebastian was walking beside her, their hands barely touching. They walked in awkward silence. Clary never had been alone with Sebastian before. There had always been Jace actively expressing his discontent and Clary wondering when Sebastian's tolerance would snap.

"Alice," he finally said. "I'm sorry about everything that happened."

"Do you mean Jace? I told you that's not your fault. Alec's just upset about Jace getting hurt. That's what _parabatai_ do."

"No, I mean," he swallowed before he continued. "I'm sorry about your friends' death. You must have had a dreadful week. I'm surprised you're doing so well, but I know from experience what it's like to lose people you love."

"Oh," she paused. "Did you lose someone?" She regretted the words as soon as she said them, and wished Sebastian didn't hear it. Contrary to her wishes, he looked down at her with halting eyes.

"My parents," he smiled weakly. "They were killed in a demon attack."

"I'm so sorry," she said, and bit her lips. She gave herself a mental kick.

"Don't be. Shadowhunters don't live long," he said. "I'm probably lucky I've had them for as long as I did." Clary did not know what to say to that. It was so morbid, yet it was the truth. She shuddered at the thought of the Silent City, with young Nephilim skulls protecting their mandate even after death. Sebastian, probably thinking she was cold, took off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. She shot him a grateful smile, hiding her discomfort. They lapsed back into a silent walk, observing the quiet streets.

They stopped when they had gone in a full circle and could see the entrance to Magnus's apartment. Clary was starting to feel the tug of drowsiness. She didn't want Sebastian to carry her to bed, so she started towards the doorstep before she collapsed from fatigue. She froze when Sebastian lightly gripped her wrist. She turned to see an intense burning in his dark eyes, unfamiliar and terrifying. The fire quickly dissipated, as if it were a mirage or a hallucination.

Clary stared, dazed, as his lips brushed against hers, as light as a butterfly's wing. Encouraged by her stillness, a hand combed through Clary's locks, pulling her closer. The soft touch on her lips soon became a heated kiss. His arms were around her protectively, as though he were shielding her from the darkness of the night. She could feel his heart pounding hard as he caressed her—

And she pushed him away as a sudden gust of wind woke her from her stupor. The moment she shared with Jace at the greenhouse had felt warm and snug, like the sunlight falling through the leaves in a warm embrace. What Sebastian did now—she couldn't bear to call it a kiss—sent a shock of harsh uncertainty, a sharp sting of antipathy. The nightmare of corpses and skulls flashed between her eyes. She felt the question in his widened eyes, but she couldn't bring herself to answer it. She managed to force a small, apologetic smile before she turned and ran into the apartment, her deafening heartbeat roaring in her head.

* * *

Clary's gasp alerted the others to Jace's recovery. Magnus and the Shadowhunters rushed to her side. Magnus was more annoyed, whereas the others had an anxious expression etched on their faces. She saw Sebastian hang back hesitantly before she turned her gaze back to Jace. He had a grouchy frown on his face as he carefully got up and leaned on the headboard. He massaged his temples as he took in the environment surrounding him, then slowly lowered his arms.

"What happened?" Jace asked. He rubbed his waist, where his wound had been. He met Clary's gaze, and flinched, a movement so subtle that it was visible only to her. The look in his eyes struck her like a train charging at full speed. After all he went through, and it was her presence that pained him. She clenched her hands into fists behind her back, hidden from the boy who shunned her. She struggled to keep her face emotionless as he turned to Alec. "I remember Sebastian saying he Tracked whatever it was, and I had this crazy idea—"

"Which nearly got you killed," Magnus snapped. He ignored Jace's yelp as he lifted his shirt to reveal a clean patch of skin where Jace had been rubbing. "The venom was giving you nightmares, so I had to erase your memory of the demons. The pain will go away when it's fully healed, but until then, you'll have to stick with me. The presence of my magic is the only thing that's preventing the wound from splitting apart."

"So I caught the convict?" Jace asked in a hopeful voice. Magnus shook his head in disgust and stalked out of the room, muttering about Herondales and their reversed brain circuits. Moments later, Clary heard him speaking on the phone—probably complaining to Ragnor or Catarina about the stupidity of Nephilim.

Alec filled Jace in on what had happened the previous night. Jace, being the Shadowhunter he is, was gleeful when he heard he had successfully slain a horde of demons. He didn't look so pleased when Alec yelled at him for his insolence, with Isabelle threatening to cook him a bowl of rice pudding. When he glanced at Sebastian, his eyes slightly narrowed, but he said nothing.

"But Alice," Isabelle turned to her. This was the confrontation that Clary was dreading. "That rune you draw—I swear I've never seen it on the Gray Book, and I've had the book read to me for bedtime stories since I was born."

"How can you read the Gray Book out loud?" Clary inquired. Isabelle rolled her eyes.

"That's not the point, Alice. What in the Angel's name was that?"

Clary shrugged, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. She felt a spark of irritation when she met Jace's amused gaze. Maybe she liked him better unconscious. "I seem to have a knack for runes, that's all."

"A knack for runes? That's it?" Alec said dubiously. The hint of mistrust was back in his voice.

"I don't know how it works, either," she snapped. "I didn't need to memorize the Gray Book in the first place—I just know runes. They come to me when I need help. I draw them. And poof, the runes do their magic."

"How is that even possible?" Isabelle complained. "All the years I'd spent trying to learn every—" She said a word that made Alec shoot her a disapproving look— "rune in the book, and she knows it by instinct. It's not _fair_."

"Well, you got to keep your perfectly functioning family, Izzy," she said quietly. "Maybe things are fair enough."

She knew she shouldn't have said that, and she knew Isabelle was just being Isabelle. She could see the shock in Isabelle's eyes, and felt the throb of guilt against her rib cage. The raven-haired girl opened her lips to form words of apology, but Magnus marched in dramatically, a scowl on his face.

"Catarina has an emergency with one of her werewolf patients," he said. "If you want your skin intact, you'll have to follow me, Jason."

"It's Jace," the boy said, stretching in his bed. He winced, and ruefully massaged his waist.

"But he's too weak to travel," Clary said. "I do have your magic in my ring. Is there anything I can do?"

Magnus looked thoughtful, his scowl easing into a small frown. "That may do. Even if it's stored in an ancient artifact, it is still my magic. But then, you'll have to be careful not to use an ounce of its reserves."

"I'll be careful," she promised.

"I know you will," he answered with a wry smile. "What I'm worried about is the troubles that find you whether you're careful or not." He studied Jace, who steadily returned the gaze. "I've already stitched him up, but the presence of my magic is what keeps the threads from disappearing. Just being at his side will do."

"Okay, Magnus," she replied. "Take care, and tell Catarina I miss her loads."

"I'm not the one who should be taking care." His fingers sparked as he grabbed the brass handles of the door. When he pushed it open, the scene beyond the door was not the familiar streets of Brooklyn but an old, decrepit hospital with worn walls. The door firmly shut behind him, and the blue glow it had been emitting slowly faded.

"We should probably go to the Institute, too," Alec suggested. "We contacted the Clave about Tracking the threads, but we didn't have the chance to send a message afterwards. They probably wouldn't be worried sick, but that doesn't mean they won't be annoyed."

"Jace and Alice can stay here, since he needs some rest," Sebastian said. "When you feel better, you can return to the Institute and have Izzy's bowl of rice pudding that you very much deserve." Alec coughed a short laughter at Jace's aghast expression, and tugged Isabelle towards the door as she built up a rant about how her food was perfectly fine. He nodded a goodbye to the two of them, and quickly pushed Isabelle out of the loft.

Clary stood there, horrified at the aspect of being alone with Jace, when Sebastian approached her and touched her shoulder. Surprised, she looked up at him with wide eyes. He smirked and bent to press his lips on her forehead in an affectionate gesture.

"Sorry for surprising you last night," he said softly as he pulled away. "You barely knew me. I should have taken my time." Clary didn't know how to respond, so she merely flashed him an uncertain smile. His smirk widened to a beam at that, and he ruffled her red locks before following the Lightwoods out the door. Clary put her fingers to her forehead. The warm touch of his lips lingered there.

"Not to be prying, but what exactly happened last night?" Jace inquired, his eyes a smouldering dark gold. His voice was cool, not betraying a hint of emotion.

"Nothing, really," she replied. Then she turned to him, her green eyes prying into his gold. The shock of his flinch returned, and there was a bitter taste in her mouth. "Just a little kiss."

"Just a little kiss," he repeated her words in a placid tone. "Must have been quite a good one, to make you all meek and shy."

She could feel the heat rising up to her cheeks, but it was anger more than anything. "Well, the last kiss I had before that was from a pathetic boy who barely trusts me, so yes, it was good."

"What an adventurous love life you must be having," he replied. He seemed to remain in his calm posture, but Clary could see the blaze in his eyes. "You seemed to have kissed three different people in the course of two days. Tell me, who was this boy you kissed the day after my confessions of love? Was it Alec? He certainly doesn't seem to trust you that much."

"Your _confessions of love_?" Clary drawled incredulously. "You abruptly kissed me, proceeded to tell me I shouldn't have kissed you back, and then stomped into your bedroom like a sulky child throwing a wild tantrum. If that is your definition of _confessions of love_ , then it's you who need the dictionary update."

"Your version of love seems to include a person you barely know," he replied. "You _barely know him_ , Clary. You've hardly ever spoken to him, and now you're in love with him?"

"Why would you care, Jace?" Her voice was almost a scream. Her head ached from frustration. He was the coward who pulled away so easily, and now it was supposed to be her fault. The absurdity of his words was a blow to her heart, like an axe cutting down a frail spruce. "You're the one who's too scared to stand by your words! I saw you flinch, Jace, the moment you saw me when you woke up from what would have been your death. You're nothing but a coward!"

She watched as her words sunk in, his casual mask twisting into a face of shock, which blanched into a look of pain. Why would he look so hurt, when it was he who had hurt her? Seething with fury, she turned to walk away, but his hand was around her arm in a grasp so tight it hurt. He was on his feet, his burning gold eyes glaring down at her. She returned his glare, daring him to contradict her.

"I was protecting you," he whispered. "You already have an insane enemy behind your back, and you already have so many families you can't bear to lose. Another weakness is the exact opposite of what you need."

"You really don't get it, do you?" Clary's voice lowered into a whisper equal to his. "I am not a monster. Whether I love or hate you, I am not going to abandon you when you are about to die. Even if I hated you with all my heart, I would not run away if Valentine had a knife at your throat. Love has nothing to do with it. It's called compassion, Jace. Humanity."

He didn't reply. His grip on her arm loosened, but she didn't make an effort to shrug it off. She could feel the heat in his hand, as though celestial fire was burning through his veins, replacing the venom that had once contaminated him. A long silence hung between them. She could see the struggling emotions in his eyes, one fighting the other. As she studied him, she noticed how pale he was, and how despite the fire behind his irises, he looked drained.

She broke the silence. "You must be hungry. What do you want for breakfast?"

He paused in surprise before he answered. "I wish to feast on the souls of the sacrifices to human greed," he said with a malicious glint in his eyes.

"Bacon and eggs it is," she walked to the kitchen. "Sunny side up?"

"Scrambled, if you don't mind."

Though the conversation was casual, Clary could feel that Jace was starting to understand. Cracks had started to appear on the prison walls of his trauma. It was his wall to break, so she didn't dare push harder. Nevertheless, they were making progress. She cracked open the an egg and allowed herself the smallest of smiles. The contents fell onto the pan with a warm sizzle.

"I said _scrambled_ ," came an indignant voice behind her.

"I never answered," she replied without facing him. "You get what I give you and like it."

She heard a soft chuckle as his arms wrapped around her neck and he leaned his chin on her head. If it had been anyone other than Jace, she would have beat the person to pulp; however, just being in his arms made her heart flutter. It was a pleasant warmth, the kind you never want to shake off.

"Perhaps I will love it," he said. "Sunny side up, I mean."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Sorry for the delay. I made it extra long though :)

Thank you everyone for following/fave-ing me! Love you all :D


	11. Chapter 11

Clary was curled up beside Jace on his hospital bed watching old movies on Magnus's TV. They—or more precisely _Jace_ , as Clary was observing him—were now watching The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. Clary had seen the movie approximately sixty times ever since she was a child. It was one of her favourite movies, though Ragnor had been grumpy about how witches and warlocks were always the bad guys. Clary had promised him that she would make a movie where the warlocks were the good guys and beat the crap out of evil angels. He had turned into a shade of delighted Verdigris with cheer at her words.

Jace, on the other hand, had limited experience with films. His gold eyes were intent on the screen, even wincing a little when the Witch stabbed Aslan. She couldn't help but burst into laughter at that. Startled by her laughter at such a horrible scene, Jace shot her a reproachful look.

"Aslan died, and now you're laughing? You're a terrible person," he said.

"He's an imaginary being," she reminded him.

"But he's all they have," he indicated the crying Susan and Lucy in the screen with a wave of his hand.

"Spoiler alert: he comes back to life," she said with a mischievous grin.

"What? Were those rats vampire rats?" Jace looked utterly astonished.

"No, one of them is Reepicheep."

"One of them is _what?_ "

His confused expression was too much for her; Clary burst into laughter again. The mattress shook with her mirth. Jace, though still wearing a puzzled frown, let her snuggle into his arms. Clary could feel the slight touch of his breath and his steady pulse as she lay her head on his arm, facing the steady rise and fall of his chest. It wasn't the best pillow ever—it was much too hard to be comfortable—but it was warm and it was _Jace_. No longer interested in the movie, Jace pulled Clary closer, so that their faces were barely an inch apart. Clary could study him up close. She noticed how there was a ring of darker amber around his irises, and a small, endearing chip in his incisor. He smirked and pressed his lips to her forehead. She closed her eyes, all warm and cosy.

She heard a low chuckle. "Aslan just came back to life."

"I told you so," she murmured. She felt sleepy, even though Aslan was roaring with triumph behind her. Jace, noticing her drowsiness, carefully moved to lay her on a white pillow. She shook her head, putting a hand on his arm possessively. She heard him huff a laugh. She was on the edge of sleep when the door opened with a slam. Clary jumped out of Jace's arms and tried to scramble off the bed, but Jace gripped her arm before she could. She turned to him with hectic eyes, but he wore a lazy grin as he gazed back. With an exasperated sigh, she turned to the intruder.

"Luke?" The bemused brown-haired man acknowledged them with a raised eyebrow.

"Cla—Alice," he corrected himself, eyeing Jace. His eyes were shrewd as he calmly inspected the two of them. "I must say I will not be the only one questioning your taste in boyfriends."

"He's not—I mean, he's—" she stuttered. She turned to Jace for help, but he did nothing to aid her. He simply lay back on his bed, amused by her fluster. Clary threw her hands up. "Ugh, whatever. How did you get the key?"

"Magnus," he answered. He set the silver key on the table.

"Figures," she mumbled. She shook Jace's hand off her wrist, shooting him a dark look when he chuckled.

"Magnus said I might want to keep an eye on you, though I hardly thought this would be the reason," Luke said. He casually sat on the sofa and took a glance at the still running screen. "Narnia, is it? I never liked that film."

"It does tend to portray wolves as somewhat nasty," Jace said.

"Not really. It reminds me of Magnus pretending to be Father Christmas for Clary when she was six," he said. "It was a disaster."

"Yeah, I probably made world record for the youngest infant to stop believing in Santa Claus," Clary said with a laugh. She didn't remember the event, of course, but Luke had made it a habit to retell the incident every Christmas, much to Magnus's annoyance.

"What happened?" Jace asked. He sat up on his bed, leaning on the headboard. His disheveled gold locks stuck out in all directions as he tilted his head like a cat.

"Family secret," she grinned. Luke nodded at her approvingly.

"Dear me," Jace commented mildly. "You're making an excuse to induce me to marry into your family."

"I wouldn't if I were you," Luke called. He was slouched on the worn sofa now, watching without amusement the animals being breathed back to life from stone. "She drools in her sleep."

" _Luke!_ " Clary stared at him, aghast. He shrugged in response, as if to say _it_ is _true_.

"Anything to put him off," he said as his lips curved into a wolfish grin. "He's not good enough for the family."

"Then strangle him or something, but don't go around insulting me," she grumbled. Luke winked at her. "No wonder none of the pack ever lets me sleep over."

"Are you done talking as if I don't exist?" Jace inquired in a piqued tone. He pulled the hem of Clary's shirt slightly as an invitation to sit by his side. She resisted a little before relenting with a sigh and climbing onto the bed beside him. She tugged the thin blanket onto her lap.

"Magnus said that you might want to return to the Institute, and if so, I am to guard you along the way." Luke said.

"We were thinking of leaving after we had lunch," Jace said. "That way, we won't be force fed Isabelle's diabolic rice pudding." Luke peered at him curiously over his glasses, but he didn't say anything.

"It's broad daylight, though," Clary pointed. "It's not like we're going to be hunted down by demons. In the middle of the day."

"Doesn't hurt to be extra cautious," he replied. "If you hadn't had lunch yet, would you like me to order something for you?"

"Mangoes," Jace suggested. "I want mangoes."

"You can't have mangoes for lunch, Jace," Clary chided. "Maybe Hawaiian pizza, if you want fruit?"

"Pineapples on pizza are an abomination," he demurred with a horrified expression. "They are the offspring of Drevak demons and fruit bats."

"Though I would very much like to question your knowledge regarding genetics, I must agree with you," Luke said. "Do you have the same objections to a simple pepperoni, then?"

Jace shook his head, his locks tickling Clary's cheek. He leaned sideways and rested his head on her shoulder. One hand was on hers, tapping rhythmically as if it were running over the keys of a piano. He seemed to have completely lost interest in the film—the rest of the plot was pretty obvious, anyway. The good wins, and evil loses. There were sacrifices, but no big losses. In a way, Clary envied stories; everything was so simple, black and white. And the good always won in those kinds of stories.

"Do you play the piano?" Clary asked. She didn't know Shadowhunters invested in artistic activities.

"Yes, my father taught me music since I was five," he replied. The motion of his fingers became more elaborate, flowing in a delicate movement of silent melody. "I didn't play for a while after… after what happened, but Maryse insisted that the finely furnished music room of the Institute shouldn't go to waste."

"I wish I could hear you play," she said. She glanced at Luke, who was lying on the sofa with his eyes closed. His lanky legs dangled off the edge. He seemed to be trying to give them privacy. "The vampires taught me to paint. Emil was an excellent artist."

Jace lifted himself from her shoulders, eyes twinkling with curiosity. "No wonder you sometimes have that look. You sometimes look so engrossed in your own world, like you see something no one else can. Sometimes…" His voice trailed off into silence, almost ill at ease. Clary waited for him to finish the unsaid sentence. "Is there anything you've worked on in this loft?" Jace questioned instead.

Clary nodded as she brushed the blanket off her legs. "Care to take a look?" Jace swung his legs over the side of the bed with Shadowhunter grace in answer. Clary took him to her room. The walls were ivory, except one side of the room; the wall itself was a painting of the night view of the Eiffel Tower, standing tall and proud. She remembered Magnus levitating her with his magic as she moved her brush in swirling lines to paint the downy textures of the fluffy grey clouds. She flicked one of the switches on, and the bulbs embedded in the walls flickered to life, though the light was faint against the daylight cascading through the window. They were twinkling stars illuminating the dark purple that slowly faded to black in the depicted dusk.

"I painted that myself," she said proudly. "It was my first project."

Jace looked impressed. He took a few steps back to admire the entire view, then slowly approached the wall. He raised his fingers as if to stroke the illustrated tower, but they were hovering over it, as if he were afraid that it would crumble under the lightest touch.

"You're a great artist," he said. He turned to face Clary. There was a strange look in his eyes, looking almost… touched. It was the same look he had worn when she had caught him watching her in the midst of the midnight flowers, their white-gold petals unfurling as they glimmered softly in the darkness. "I feel indebted to the vampires."

"I'm glad you like it," she said. "The portrait there of me and Magnus—that's Emil's work." Jace followed her pointing hand to the expertly painted portrait. The younger Clary, with the chubby cheeks of infant age, smiled happily in Magnus's arms. Magnus was wearing a black dress shirt sequined with gold, his green-gold eyes flashing with the pure glee of life as they do in real life.

"Now that I know that you're an artist, I can really understand your habits," he said with a grin. "When you were in the greenhouse—both times, I must add—you flexed your fingers like you wanted to grab something. You do that when you want to capture the beauty of what you see in a sketch, don't you? You want a pencil and a drawing pad in your fingers."

"I didn't know I did that," she admitted. She recalled the cool air of the greenhouse, full of scents of spring and leaves. She wished that she could spend hours sitting there with an easel and a canvas, with paint brushes and a palette full of colours. "What were you about to say back there? When you were talking about me having 'that look', whatever it is."

"And I actually wished you would graciously ignore that little detail," he said, his grin somewhat rueful. "But I did promise myself that I'd be honest with my emotions from now on." He paused and inhaled deeply before he haltingly held her hand. She could feel his calloused fingers on hers, strong as a warrior's and slender as a musician's. The mere touch sent tingles of electricity up her arm, and she couldn't help but wonder if Jace felt that too. "As I had said, you often disappear into your world, so inexplicably tangled in your own thoughts. And—and I feel jealous, though I don't even know what I am jealous _of_. I want to be there together with you when you sink into the pool of your own mind. I know I can't, so I feel stifled, in a way. It's like being trapped in reality, while you dart away from me into your world."

Clary didn't know what to say in response. She was moved by his honest feelings towards her, for mustering up the courage to fight his instincts that were wired into him ever since his parents' death. She wanted nothing more than to pull herself against him in a fierce hug. However, she also felt that she wasn't worth such tenderness, that she had somehow wrongfully tricked him into loving her. She stared up at him, struggling to find the right words, until a ring of the doorbell saved her from answering.

Luke had already lain out the two boxes of pizza and was helping himself on a slice when they entered the living room. Jace grabbed a slice and sat on the floor while Clary filled the glasses with cola. He folded the slice in half and took a giant bite, already half finished with it. He shrugged with innocent eyes when Clary watched incredulously.

"I've had some of the pack stationed around here," Luke informed them. "They'll be trailing us from behind as soon as we depart."

"It sounds like a bad spy movie," Clary said between nibbles. "Maybe we should give each other code names. Jace can be James Blonde."

"I'll be Jacob Black, then," Luke replied with a wink. "Maybe we can contact Raphael to join us and call him Edward Cullen just to annoy him." Clary choked on her pizza at the idea.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Jace said. He was already reaching for another slice.

Clary and Luke discussed mundane movies just to annoy Jace, though he looked unimpressed. He had finished a whole box of pizza on his own, earning a look of disdain from Luke. Luke was a big eater too, which meant Clary had to be content with a single slice and a banana she discovered from rummaging through the kitchen. She still wore a grouchy scowl as they climbed onto Luke's truck.

"Lighten up, Clary, you can have Isabelle's rice pudding when we get to the Institute," Jace smirked. The truck whirred to life under them. Clary glanced around her, and saw the slinking shadows of wolves with glamours powerful enough to hide them even from Nephilim. She closed her eyes as the breeze ran over her skin in a cool flow, sweeping her hair back from her face. The warmth of the sun was pleasant against her skin. "Hardly a day for an ambush, huh?"

"The worst villain in history would want a day off in this perfect weather," she agreed. Even the roads were somehow free of traffic jams, and their trip to the Institute was swift. She jumped off the truck when the truck slowed to a halt. There was a small thud as Jace landed softly next to her. It was amazing how his motions were all muted, as if someone turned the volume down when he moved.

They walked down the block, their fingers linked. Clary could sense the watching eyes of Luke and his handful of wolves behind her. Their presence made her feel rather self-conscious, but Jace's grasp on her hand was firm, and she didn't want to let go. They swerved to the left for the Institute when a giant shadow loomed over them. Clary had barely time to look up before a harsh impact hurled them to the ground. She stared into the livid and demented glare of a Forsaken.

* * *

 **Author's Note**

A somewhat lighter episode with no one getting injured :)

I'm so happy that I have 86 followers on this story! I was expecting next to nothing, so this is a pleasant surprise for me. Thank you all for putting up with my story.

And as a reply to one of the reviews: No, I am not Romanian. I happen to be (South) Korean. May I ask what gave you the idea though? :D

Thank you everyone once more for following/fave-ing my story, and be my guest to leave me feedback.


	12. Chapter 12

The Forsaken had filthy black hair matted with sweat and dirt, with streaks of mud on his gaunt face. There were blisters around the scars of Marks burned into his heavily muscled arms, which flexed as he turned to the sky and released a guttural roar. Before he could lunge at Clary and Jace, however, he was thrust back into the ground by the invisible wolves. Clary watched, feeling the gruesome twinge in her guts as limbs were torn by invisible attackers, blackish blood spilling out like an old engine spewing oil. An unseen claw ripped open his throat, finally ending his agonized twitching.

"Remember when someone said they wouldn't be attacked in the middle of the day?" Luke said, dark humour colouring his voice.

"Har har," Clary replied, recovering from her shock. She took Jace's hand to lift herself off the ground. "I guess this is your cue to say, 'I told you so'."

"But why would a Forsaken be placed right near the Institute?" Jace frowned. "It's like whoever his creator is predicted us coming here. He or she knows where we are."

"You should go check on the other Shadowhunters that left ahead of you," Luke said in a grim tone. "They might have been attacked, too. Either there was an attack on the Institute and this one strayed, or Valentine has found out." His expression was pained as he gazed at Clary. She understood what he meant; Valentine had discovered that she was his daughter, and had sent an agent to take her. He somehow knew where she was and where she would be.

Clary gave him a quick hug before they raced towards the gilded gates of the Institute. The cathedral looked peaceful, unscathed by any treachery or evil. The gates smoothly swung open at Jace's touch. They cautiously entered the Institute, searching for any sign of an attack. Clary glimpsed something very black, and she spun towards it, a knife ready in her hand.

"I know I'm not your favourite Shadowhunter, Alice, but really, must you greet me with a knife in your hand?" Isabelle remarked. Clary, relieved, slid the dagger back into its scabbard.

"We were attacked by a Forsaken on our way here. We thought the Institute may have been under assault." Jace said, still tensed. He was scanning the surroundings with his eyes narrowed and astute, searching for anything out of the ordinary.

"That's strange," Isabelle's brows knit together. "We didn't encounter anything strange on our way, much less an attack. Did you get hurt?"

"No, we're fine," he said as he finally lowered his guard.

Clary's mind whirled as the three climbed into the gilded elevator of the Institute. She was discovered. But how? Had she been too careless in her ventures? She felt a pang in her chest when it dawned on her that all the sacrifices of her Downworld friends had been for nothing. She hadn't realized that she had been trembling until Jace wrapped his fingers between hers.

"I'll take Alice to her room," Jace told Isabelle as he stepped out. Isabelle shot her a concerned look before she nodded. Still holding her hand, Jace led her to the familiar corridor between their rooms. "Clary, it's okay. We're here to protect you."

She nodded, not trusting herself to keep the tears back. Clary felt him watching as she entered her room, taking in a deep breath to steady herself. The room was surprisingly dark. She drew the curtains and blinked as the sunlight flooded the room. She opened the window to let in some fresh air, and turned away from the brightness. Then she took a step back as Sebastian waved at her with a crooked grin, sitting cross-legged on her bed.

"You nearly gave me a heart attack," she glowered at him, and held a hand to her throbbing heart. He shrugged and patted the chair he seemed to have tugged from the nearby desk. She sat there, unnerved by the alarming intimacy. She edged away from him as discreetly as she could.

"I've heard Isabelle out the window," he said with a worried grimace. "You were attacked by a Forsaken, huh?"

"We're fine," she replied. She froze when Sebastian abruptly pulled her from her chair to sit beside him on the fringe of the mattress. His fingers were knotting themselves in her hair, and she could feel his heated breath on her neck. She pushed him away, wincing at the pain from the locks of her hair being torn by their roots. "Sebastian, I really don't think—"

He leaned back, his hands in the air in an innocent message of surrender. His eyebrows were raised, but more in amusement than surprise. "Fine, hands off." He lowered his hands to either side of his body, leaning on his palms. "It's a relief you had the wolves to protect you."

"Yeah, it was insightful of Magnus to call…" Clary halted, every muscle tensed. _She never told Isabelle about Luke._ She turned to leap away from him, her fingers fumbling for the dagger. But before she could push herself away from his reach, Sebastian grasped her shoulder and pinned her to the mattress, his hand snatching the stele from her pocket. A heavy hand was clamped over Clary's mouth, knocking the breath out of her lungs, as the familiar pain of a Mark burned her neck.

"Too late, Clarissa," he smirked as he finished the Mark. He took his hand from her lips. She tried to scream, but even as her throat constricted, no sound came. She squirmed helplessly to escape his grasp, but his entire weight was pressing her harshly in unbreakable confinement. His voice was almost lazy as he said: "Our father had it all planned, you know. He'll go around murdering Downworlders, and you would race up to the Shadowhunters for help. I was surprised when it didn't even take you that long. All thanks to Jace, of course."

Sebastian leaned forward, his eyes hungry. He carved another rune on her arm, effectively stopping her from squirming. She focused all her strength to land a single kick on him, but no muscle would obey her. She couldn't move nor scream for help; she was so completely at his mercy. She couldn't even tremble when his fingers traced the lines of her neck, sliding down her back in a single slow movement. He pressed his lips to her neck, breathing in her scent. Clary felt tears well up in her eyes as she fruitlessly fought her own body to move, to scramble away from his touch.

A sharp rap on the door stopped Sebastian. "Clary? Can I come in?" It was Jace's voice, lined with anxiety and concern. She felt a spark of hope and strained against the power of the runes to shout for help in vain. Sebastian whispered a curse and hauled Clary up against him. She felt a frosty touch to her neck. It was the bone-white dagger that had been in her belt. She was dragged to the window, and she heard it creak open.

There was a faint yell—Alec's voice, Clary noticed—calling to Jace, "Sebastian's not here!" At his voice, the door swung open. Jace stood by the doorway, his throwing knife held tightly in his hand. His knuckles were white.

"Took you long enough," Sebastian sneered. Jace's glare was frigid, but Sebastian's tone was relaxed. "Thought I'd never get to kiss you goodbye."

"Let go of her, and I won't kill you," Jace growled.

"I'd like to see you try," Sebastian breathed. Clary felt a sharp pain sting her neck, and felt the beads of blood drip down and dampen the collar of her shirt. Jace hesitated, his eyes noticeably shaking. She could feel Sebastian quivering with laughter, drawing more blood from her neck. But the pain was nothing compared to watching Jace's visible terror. She could tell he was seeing the corpses of his dead parents. She wanted to shout that it was alright, but she couldn't, and she knew very well that nothing was alright.

"Adios, amigo," came Sebastian's voice. As Isabelle burst into the room with the whip in her hand, Sebastian flung himself out the window, taking Clary with him. Frantic despair speared her heart as she was brutally yanked away from safety, from her friends, from Jace. A piercing pain streaked across her vision when Sebastian struck her ruthlessly with the butt of the dagger's handle, and she sank into darkness.

* * *

"Don't move, Jace," Isabelle warned. She fixed the bandage wrapped around his waist with tape. Blood was already seeping through it. "When is Alec coming?"

None of them knew how to contact Magnus, so Alec had raced off to find Luke. Jace sat still. His wound was the last of his troubles. Now that he had lost Clary, he vaguely remembered Sebastian's sneer as he abandoned him to fend off the demons. But what was the point, when he had already lost everything he had? He sank into the velvet sofa, leaning back on its arm. He was a failure, to his parents and to Clary. When he had finally thought he could finally be happy, he carelessly, obtusely lost the one dearest person who granted him the elation. And Clary was paying for his mistakes.

He raised his hands to cover his face. He was a wreck, a failure. He had promised to protect Clary, and he had brought her straight to Valentine's hands. He could still see Clary's terrified green eyes, and feel the guilt that struck him when he realized that she was terrified not for herself but for him. The weight of his guilt was all he felt, even after his wounds burst open.

A Portal appeared, and Alec and Magnus burst through it. Though Magnus's green-gold eyes were flaming with desperate fury, he was calm when he approached Jace. Jace could feel his flesh knit and mend, but it only built the guilt eating his mind.

"Jace Lightwood Herondale," Magnus's voice was soft yet tight. Jace lifted his hands from his face, partially surprised that the warlock knew the middle name he had taken for himself. "This is not your fault, and I will not question you. But I _will_ vent my anger on you if you don't put yourself together _right now_ and help me find Clary."

"Clary?" Alec asked. "Do you mean Alice?"

"There's no time for this," Magnus said impatiently. "Valentine has somehow managed to block me from Tracking her, but I can sense my magic in her ring. However, I do not know what Valentine is capable of. I need your help."

Jace slowly got up. Alec watched him with worry. Jace nodded at him before meeting Magnus's fierce eyes. He struggled to find his voice, but when he did, it was firm. "We need to get geared up."

* * *

Jace walked out of Magnus's Portal to find himself in front of an old apartment. The bricks were chipped with age, the windows shattered. He pulled out the Sensor from his pocket, but its screen was blank.

"I don't understand. There is no demonic energy," he scowled and looked up at the decrepit building.

"Maybe he keeps his army elsewhere," Magnus said. The Portal closed as Isabelle and Alec stepped out, fully geared in Shadowhunter black. The silver whip was coiled on Isabelle's wrist, ready to snap out when in need.

The doorknob glowed when Magnus touched it. Jace heard a small click as the door unlocked. He put a hand on Magnus's shoulder and gave him a meaningful look as he pushed forward. He held the doorknob for a moment, bracing himself for an immediate attack. He eyed the others behind him, who nodded. Alec nocked an arrow, and Isabelle's whip slowly unfurled in her palm.

Jace pushed the door open. The apartment was dark, and smelled of dust. He took a measured step forward with a witchlight runestone in his hand, looking for any signal of an attack. When nothing happened, he opened the door wider for the others to enter. He saw a flicker of movement at the edge of his sight. He whipped out a throwing knife, but before he could act, an arrow shot towards the Forsaken and hit its forehead. It fell with a sickening crunch. They crept forward.

"I don't think there are any other Forsaken," Magnus whispered. "That one was already weak, almost dying. I think Valentine has his army elsewhere, and that was left here to die. But that would mean this place is completely unguarded and…"

"That would mean Clary isn't here," Jace muttered. "But this is the only trail we have, and we should take it anyway." Magnus nodded in agreement. Jace shot a grateful smile at Alec as they spread out in the apartment, ready to leap to the other's side at the slightest trouble.

"Guys, I think I've found a room," Isabelle called in a whispered voice. She beckoned them over to a wooden door. Jace moved to open it, but Magnus held him back. His fingers glowed as he put a hand against the door. The glow dimmed when he finally nodded at Jace.

"No traps on the door, though I can't be sure about what's inside," he said. Jace gave him a terse nod and cautiously opened the door. The witchlight illuminated the dark room. The room was sparsely furnished. A bed with a threadbare blanket ruffled in an untidy mess was at the corner, and an empty wardrobe stood across it. A high lamp stand was positioned adjacent to the bed, but there was no sign of life; no enemies, but no Clary, either. His hopes sank when a small glimmer caught his eye.

"Magnus, is that—is that Clary's ring?"

Magnus pushed him aside and slowly advanced toward the gold ring. He knelt beside it, his head hung in defeat. He picked up the ring and held it up. Jace could barely perceive the glitter of the sapphire embedded in the gold band.

"Yes," Magnus said in a weak voice. "Yes, it is."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Yay! More than 90 followers! Thanks everyone! :D I know numbers aren't everything, but they still mean a lot to me :)  
And thanks for the reviews, too! I feel like jumping on my bed whenever I get an e-mail alert of one XD

One thing: the next chapter will contain M-rated contents. In case there are people who do not wish to read such content, I will put a summary of the chapter at the start of the page. Those who wish to continue with the story without having to read it may read only the summary and wait for the next chapter :)

Of course, only a part of the chapter contains such elements. Therefore, in case there are those who do not want to read such content AND want to read other, T-rated contents, I will place a short A/N before and after the part.

If you would like me to make more precautions, feel free to share it by P/M or reviews.  
Thank you everyone!


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note**

This chapter contains M-rated contents, and therefore readers are warned. For those who would like to skip this chapter, I will summarize it for you.

[ Clary is kidnapped by Valentine and Sebastian/Jonathan, and kept in the apartment that Magnus and the other Shadowhunters of the NYC Institute had found in the previous chapter. She is tortured by the burning chains Valentine had used on Jocelyn, which burn her when she disobeys him. Valentine tells her that he is planning to use her rune abilities to Portal his demon army into Idris, while using Sebastian's blood to break the wards. He tells her this because he thinks his plans are infallible.

Clary is taken to a room, where she stores a message in her ring before Sebastian enters and throws the ring to the ground. Sebastian rapes her, and she falls unconscious. ]

I have placed a short A/N before the M-rated content starts, so if you wish to read the story minus the inappropriate part, you can read until you see the Short Author's Note.:)

* * *

Clary was yanked from the safe haven of her dreams and back to reality by a harsh burn at her neck. She gasped as her eyes flew open, clawing at her neck. Her fingers caught a scorching chain that stung to the touch. She gritted her teeth, trying hard to ignore the pain. She was propped on a velvet chair, her ankles chained to it by silver manacles, bulky and ugly in contrast to the fabric it was linked to.

"Relax," came an unpleasantly silky voice. Clary swiveled in her seat to meet the amused eyes of the familiar platinum-blond man. The biting heat had slowly turned to a bearable warmth at the nape of her throat. "You're at home, Clarissa."

"Valentine," she growled through her teeth. He had lines of age on his forehead, and his hair had considerably lost its lustre, but he still resembled the handsome, charismatic man Clary had seen in the photo Jace had shown her.

"I would prefer it if you called me Father, as a child with proper upbringing should," he said with a hint of distaste. "However, I realize that you have had the foulest upbringing, and therefore I will excuse you just this once."

She didn't answer. She surveyed her surroundings. It was a cramped, windowless room, illuminated by a dim, blinking lightbulb that hung precariously on the ceiling. The grey walls were crusted with slime and lined with cobwebs. It was empty save the chair that held her.

"What do you want from me?" Clary hoped there was more confidence in the question than she felt. The manacles were barely keeping her from curling in a ball and crying into her knees.

"To be the daughter that was taken from me, obviously," the man answered. His lips were curved in what would have been a pleasant smile if it weren't for the dangerous glint in his eyes. "Kidnapped before I could even hold you in my arms as a newborn child—"

"Says the person who kidnapped me from my friends," she snapped.

"They can't be friends if they don't even know who you are, can they?" Valentine said, his smile unwavering.

"Jace knows."

"Oh, Jace Herondale, the poor boy. I have a story to tell him, too, though that should be saved for later," he shrugged nonchalantly. "Clarissa, I want you to answer a simple yes or no question. Can you create new runes, unseen by human eyes in the history of the Nephilim?" There was a certainty in his voice that told her there was no point in denying him the truth. But that didn't mean she wanted to give him answers, either. She kept her mouth shut, glaring at him with all the fire she could muster.

"My dear Clarissa," he said in a mournful tone. "You're making things harder on yourself." As he spoke, the chain on her neck grew alarmingly hot, a flaming burn that ripped into her like a whip. It was agony she had never experienced before, more excruciating than demon teeth tearing into her skin. Clary heard a scream behind the roaring in her ears. It took time to realize it was hers.

 _"_ _Yes!"_ Clary sobbed. The tears continued to fall after the pain receded, leaving a numb throb around her neck. Her fingers reached for the chain, attempting to yank it off, but a shock of electricity forced them away at the touch.

"I assumed you would need to be taught obedience, so I had to take precautions," he said in a remorseless voice. "I advise you to be smarter in future conversations."

"You mean torture," she spat.

"Not necessarily. If you give me answers right away, there will be no need for such suffering. Also, unlike tortures, I am willing to give my own answers in exchange."

"Then why am I here?" Clary demanded. "What do you want from me? And don't tell me the father-daughter relationship crap, because I don't believe a single word of it."

"I need you because of the angel blood you carry inside you," he replied. "The blood I fed your mother when you were still in her womb. The blood that blesses you with the ability to create runes not inscribed in the Gray Book, and another gift besides. I want you to take my army to Idris with your runes."

"Angel blood? You've gone mad," she said, shaking her head.

"Believe what you will, if you have another explanation for your ability to write in the language of the Heavens so fluently."

She stared at him, waiting him to sneer that it was a big joke and she was supposed to laugh. Instead, he looked dead serious, no hint of beguilement in his eyes. She was about to ask another question when there was a sharp rap at the door behind Valentine. It opened without waiting for an answer to reveal Sebastian. He glanced at Clary and smirked.

"Did you call me, Father?"

"Yes, I would like you to escort your sister to her room after I enlighten her with our plans," he said briskly. Sebastian nodded and stood by the door, staring at Clary with a frightening hungriness. She looked away, feeling the uneasiness curl in her stomach.

"Why are you telling me your plans so easily?"

"Because it is infallible," Valentine answered with an ominous grin like a shark. "Your brother Jonathan here has Greater Demon blood just as you have the angel blood running thick inside your veins. He is granted easy entrance by the unsuspecting Clave, which means he can climb the demon towers and destroy the wards around Alicante without being suspected. The army of demons will do the rest."

"The wards stop demons from entering Idris," she said. "I can't make a Portal for your army."

"If you were brought up by a proper Shadowhunter family, you would know that the wards around Idris keep out only the mundanes. The Downworlders, the demons, every single being of the Shadow World are capable of entering Idris. The wards around Alicante is the only obstacle." Valentine seemed bored now. He beckoned for Sebastian to come forth. "Take Clarissa to her room."

Sebastian knelt beside her and took out his stele. She felt the familiar burn on her legs as she lost her control over them—it was the rune of Immobility. He deftly undid the clasps on her ankle, and swung her on his shoulders harshly as he would with a sack. She struggled to wriggle out of his grasp, but his arm was firmly wrapped around her torso as he carried her out of the room. She could see nothing but his back as he swiftly walked across the darkness. Soon, she heard the click of a door opening and she was thrust onto the bed. She watched as Sebastian left the room, not giving her so much as a glance.

She looked around the room, looking for any sign that betrayed her current location. However, there were no windows here, either. There was a tall lamp dimly lighting the old room. Her body was lain on threadbare blankets, which she feared was teeming with dust mites. A scent of old wood and moss hung in the air like a disease _—_ it was obvious this house had not been used for an extended period of time.

She quickly touched the sapphire of her ring. She had removed all the other rings Magnus had given her to hide the magic one, so she didn't fumble to get the right ring. The sapphire glowed with magic. She held it to her lips, mumbling as quickly as she could. The words she heard from Valentine tumbled from her lips desperately, describing the chains, his talk of angel blood, his apocalyptic plans. She halted to take a breath before she murmured the final words.

 _"_ _I love you—"_

"Oh no, you don't." Sebastian marched across the room and snatched the ring from her fingers. It clattered to the floor. Clary scrabbled to reach it, but Sebastian kicked it aside. Clary concealed a relieved sigh; he seemed uninterested in taking the ring. Clary had known she would be interrupted, so she had stored the message within the ring rather than attempt to send it, in the hope that Magnus would find the ring and activate the message.

"Sebastian, you bastard," she growled.

"Jonathan," he corrected. "My name is Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern. Morgenstern, just like the name you carry, Clarissa Morgenstern." He swiftly grabbed her wrists and pulled them above her head to fasten the shackles around them. She flinched from the cold touch of the iron.

"I am not a Morgenstern," she said, her hatred burning through her words. "I am a Bane."

(Quick Author's Note - Here be M-rated contents inappropriate for innocent eyes)

He pushed her to the mattress brutally, not seeming to care when she gasped in pain. He climbed onto her, pinning her in place. "That's a warlock name, and not even the true name of the warlock that brought you up," he whispered. They were dangerously close, their noses brushing against each other's. His flaring dark eyes bore into hers. "You are my sister, Clarissa, as I am your brother. I am the one who deserves to be by your side."

His hands crawled behind her head, his fingers grasping the fine locks of her hair. She could feel the hard lines of his body pressed against hers, thin fabric the only boundary between them. She struggled to push him off her, but her hands were tied and her legs immobilized. He kissed her eyelids and traced the shape of her face with his lips. She shuddered as the warm touch of his lips traveled to hers, prying them open with his tongue. She shook her head, trying to avoid him, but his grip on the roots of her hair tightened, and pulled her against him in a single coarse movement.

It felt like insects were crawling all over where he touched, making her want to violently throw up and scratch every inch of her body until she bled. His breath was hot as his tongue bored into her mouth, ravenously exploring her depths. One hand was groping her face, sending tingles of disgust down her spine. Despite every single nerve telling her it was dangerous, she did what her impulses urged her to do: she brought down her teeth on his tongue, hard.

He howled and snapped away from her, his eyes murderous black flames. She tasted his blood in her mouth, bitter and repulsive. She spat at him, which earned her a stinging slap to her face. She watched, trembling, as he brought out a dagger and pressed its tip to her throat. She could still feel the pain of the slit where his knife had cut her. She glared at him, daring him to push it in. Instead, he smiled, the dim light of the lamp casting a shadow across his face. The dagger tore her shirt and undergarments, and Jonathan ripped the remaining scraps of fabric from her bare upper body.

"No!" Despite her desperate shriek, he grinned as he tilted her head back by her chin. He bit her neck hard enough to draw blood with his human teeth. He licked her blood from the wound, causing her to squirm at the disconcerting touch. Clary could feel him chuckle as he nibbled her soft skin, then trace the black mark on her shoulders with his tongue. She struggled against the bounds, but the metal only bit into her wrists, causing more pain.

She wasn't aware of his fingers undoing the button of her jeans until they had successfully started to tug her trousers off. Panicking, her tugs on the manacles became more frantic, causing blood to fall in small droplets from her damaged wrists. She was whimpering, beseeching him to stop, but he ignored her as he stripped her of her last remaining dignity. He sneered as he tasted the terrified tears rolling down her face.

"I'm sorry—don't, please stop, Jonathan, please don't do this—" Her stammers were cut off with a scream when he penetrated her in a single swift movement. The pain between her legs was unbearable as he menacingly dug further into her. Her sobs for mercy had melted to pitched wails of pain and self-disgust, which Jonathan seemed to enjoy as he uttered a throaty moan into her shoulders. He bit her and sucked on her skin, leaving marks as he continuously moved in and out of her. His thrusts grew more heated than the last, his pants and grunts more frequent with each movement. His husky voice whispered her name into her ear, rolling it on his tongue like an exquisite sweet as he jerked into her. The warmth gushing into her was all she registered as she sank once more into unconsciousness, a single name branded into the nightmares, entitling her to what was now supposed to be her identity. She could still hear his voice whispering to her, fondling the words in his mouth: _Clarissa Morgenstern._


	14. Chapter 14

Jace picked up the ring from Magnus's hands, barely managing to control his trembling fingers. The jewel caught the blessed light from the witchlight he held in his other hand. He slowly fit the ring onto his index finger, trying hard to drown the whispers of dread that threatened to destroy him. Then the jewel glowed, brighter than the witchlight, enveloping the room in an eldritch cerulean glow. It cast ghostly shadows on the walls and shifted to create a shape—a silhouette of Clary, sitting on the bed.

Jace dared not move, lest the smallest movement would make the shadows falter and disappear. The shadow-Clary seemed oblivious to this. Though the shadow was merely a cut-out of Clary, Jace could imagine her eyes darting around the room with a cautious glint.

As clear as the giggle of a fresh stream, her voice rang in the room. Magnus and the Shadowhunters held their breath as her voice echoed in the small room, explaining her situation and Valentine's plans. Though the voice was calm and steady, Jace was not fooled. They had known each other only for a short period; however, he knew her enough to catch the almost unnoticeable shake in her tone.

"I love you," her voice whispered, before she yelped and the light abruptly vanished. Jace had not known he had dropped the witchlight until they were enveloped in a darkness so thick it threatened to suffocate him. He picked it up, willing the stone to light up at his touch. He glanced at Magnus, whose features were stricken with shock.

"Magnus," Jace called. Magnus faced him, his green-gold eyes unreadable. "I think I know where she is. She did something to the ring—I can sense her." Magnus didn't say anything, but padded towards Jace and put a hand on the finger that wore the ring. He conjured up the image Jace saw clearly in his mind. The familiar construction site stood in the shadows, looking as gloomy as ever.

"We need to get to the Institute, first," Alec said in a grim voice. "Valentine isn't planning on killing Clary, but we will all die if the Clave isn't notified of Sebastian and warned of his plans."

"Can't Magnus send a fire-message?" Jace demanded, impatient. Valentine had dragged Clary to Raziel-knows-where; they did not have time to dawdle.

"They will only trust his message if we burn paper marked with the Institute's sign," Isabelle answered. Her hands were clenched into fists, her whip coiled on her arm again. "Magnus, please—we have to hurry. Sebastian could be anywhere."

Magnus nodded, his fingers sparking. The wall twisted into the glowing form of a Portal. Jace could see the magnificent spires of the Institute through the magicked gap in the wall. They raced into it, abandoning the darkness behind them.

They burst into the streets, right in front of the Institute's gates. A sense of alarm rang through Jace when he saw the gates hanging ajar. He had never seen it left open before. Before anyone could stop him, he burst through the gates, a seraph blade ready in his hands. He stopped short and stumbled when he met the glossy eyes of a dead warlock with a single horn protruding from his right temple. His heart was speared with a long iron lance, bloody foam bubbling out from his open mouth. Magnus leaned forward to close the corpse's wide-open eyes. There was soot on the ground, a remnant of a Portal.

"Sebastian has already gone to Alicante, it seems," he announced in a bleak voice. Isabelle raced out from the Institute, a paper in her hand. It was stamped with the rune of Angelic Power, a rune that signified the Institute. Isabelle's cursive were scrawled across it in a hasty hand. She half-thrust it to Magnus, who promptly burned it with azure flames. He looked exhausted when he lifted his hands to conjure up yet another Portal. Alec grabbed his hand, his eyes intent as he met Magnus's startled expression.

"Take my strength," he said. "I've heard warlocks can do it."

Magnus shook his head. "Save it. We're in for a bigger battle, and we will need Shadowhunter strength."

No matter how prepared for battle they were, they were far from ready for the scene that awaited them beyond the Portal. A shiver ran down Jace's spine when he registered the snarling masses that filled the room. A giant circle of runes was branded into the floor, each glowing with overflowing power. Inside the circle was an army of demons, all snarling and twisting and squirming, filling the humid air with the stench of decay and brimstone. The scales, the tentacles, the slime all alerted every nerve in his body that he had to escape. _But not without Clary,_ he thought, his eyes desperately searching for the red-head.

He surveyed the room through the hole where a window should have been. Then he saw them, standing atop a granite altar that rose above the horde of demons, one he swore had not been there before. Valentine was watching his army with proud eyes, a smile of triumph lighting his haughty countenance. He stood with his back straight, chin held high, platinum-white hair brushed back in a tidy manner.

Beside him was Clary, though Jace almost couldn't recognize her. Her green eyes no longer held the usual curious spark; instead, they were blank and lifeless like the fish displayed in a market. Her hair fell in tangled strands. Even its usual bright colour seemed to have diminished to a darker shade. She sat lifeless on a wheelchair, manacles binding her arms and legs to it though she did not seem to have the slightest strength to even lift the manacles. He could see the chain she had described in her message—her neck was red and blistered, too painful to even glance at.

"There are too many demons, even for us," Jace whispered, his voice pained. Alec shot a surprised glance at him, and he knew why; he had never admitted the likeliness of failure. The tips of Magnus's lips were pulled down in a grimace, when a sudden burst of light blasted through the windows.

"The Portal!" Jace yelled through the cacophony of demon snarls. They burst through the door to see the runes swirling, fissures cracking open the ground. Valentine was laughing, amused by their helpless scurry. A flicker of surprise flashed in Clary's eyes when they met Jace's. Her lips shaped words, but they were lost in the noise of the imploding ground and the growling demons. His heart wrenched when he saw the tears roll down her face as she urgently shouted drowned words.

Magnus, his hands glowing with power, flung himself into the crowd of demons, blasting them along his way. Jace swore and leaped after him, cutting through the demons as the ground under him shook. He heard Alec yell behind him, that he had his back. He swerved to avoid a Shax demon lurching toward him and plunged forward, burning a hole in the demon's abdomen. He continued to jump, duck, slash and stab his way toward the altar, but it felt like running on a shaking treadmill. The fissure was growing wider, swallowing the demons. The runes exploded once more with tremendous power.

Then he heard it, Clary's piercing voice, shrill with pain and despair: "Magnus! _Father!_ "

Magnus froze as the ground splintered under him, staring at Clary. Jace frantically grabbed Alec's hand and leaped for Magnus. He heard Isabelle shout, and a streak of pain struck his ankle as her whip caught him. His hands caught the cuff of Magnus's cherry red gown. He felt a rush of relief despite the situation, and they all tumbled into the abyss when the ground gave out from beneath them. Jace remembered the nightmares he had before that night at the greenhouse with Clary, the tendrils of demonic creatures pulling him into the depths of Hell as the ground closed over his head.

* * *

 _Jace was back at the Institute's greenhouse, breathing in the scents of nature and Idris. The greenhouse revived the m_ _emories of Brocelind Forest, and how he would lie near the Lake Lyn with his father, talking and laughing. He let his fingers trail the stem of a flower until he noticed the girl sitting on the stone bench. She looked like a mirage, as though the image of her would shatter if he reached for her. He tried to call her name, but the word would not leave his lips. However, she seemed to have heard the silent call anyway, and she turned to meet him._

 _"_ _Jace," she greeted him with a grin. He felt the urge to wrap his arms around her slender shape, to press her to his body, and kiss her, gently and soothingly. But he restrained—she looked so fragile. Instead, he touched the spray of freckles on her cheeks, and she laughed. "It's not like you to be so cautious, Jace."_

 _Her laugh always seemed to wrench his heart from his torso, and plunge it into molten gold, again and again. How could he tell her that the mere sight of her caused his heart to skip a beat, and the touch of her breath made it treacherously hammer against his ribcages so hard that he feared they might break? He was stuck in love as a rose was stuck in rich soil; to pluck it would mean death. But he would do it if it meant protecting her, to keep her safe._

To keep her safe from what? _His mind wondered, still hazy in the serene beauty of it all. He knelt in front of her, cradling her hands in his. They were an artist's hands, so small yet firm. They fit perfectly in his soft grasp. Her eyes folded into a smile as she played with his fingers like a kitten._

 _A scream pierced the peace. Jace started, his grip on her hands tightening, but he caught only thin air. Clary's eyes were completely black with no whites, and she was screaming so terribly. There were scorch marks along her thin neck, blood running down from no noticeable wound. He wildly tore his belt for a stele, but there was none. He could make words out of her scream, fading even as he accessed them._

Why weren't you there for me, _she cried._ It's your fault. Your fault.

Jace scrambled up from the grass, his forehead damp with a sheen of sweat. He sighed with relief when he found the others near him, unconscious but breathing. He took in his surroundings—they seemed to be in a clearing with a line of trees a few feet away from them. They were at the edge of Brocelind Plain, he guessed. He shook Magnus, who squinted before jolting upright.

"We seem to have fallen in a different place in Idris," Jace said in a low voice.

"Then we must look for Clary," Magnus replied, his eyes shrewd slits as he surveyed the area.

"Alec, wake up!" Jace yelled as he shook his _parabatai_. Alec slowly rose, dazed. He was badly bruised, probably from the demon swarm. Isabelle got up, too, her eyes narrowed as she combed her dark hair with her fingers. "We need to split up. I think we're at the edge of Brocelind Plain, and I hear the rush of water that way." He pointed at the vague location of the source of the trickling sound of water. "You guys get to Alicante as quick as you can, and tell your parents what happened. Magnus and I will look for Clary."

"Can you sense her?" Magnus demanded. Jace nodded and rose to his feet, wincing a little at the sudden pain. The fall must not have been gentle.

"We have no time to lose," he said. Alec nodded, and helped Isabelle up. They were all in a bad state—he knew the Lightwoods well enough to hear their stifled groans as they straightened up. Magnus looked drained, the patch of skin beneath his eyes black as if they were bruised. But their eyes were fierce, the measured gaze of warriors. Isabelle gave him a nod before she sprinted towards the sound of water, Alec following close behind.

"Clary is in Brocelind Forest, not far from Lake Lyn," Jace said. Magnus took a deep breath and steadied himself. Jace met his gaze and froze. There was accusation in the green-gold cat eyes. When he blinked, the accusation had vanished, replaced with a small frown of puzzlement.

"What is it?" Magnus asked, looking genuinely worried.

"Nothing," he lied. He walked towards the forest, the crisp grass crumpling beneath his boots. _Why weren't you there for me?_ Clary whispered in his mind. Everything was his fault. First his parents, and now Clary. His life was a curse to those he loved, so he could not bear having the Lightwoods near him. This time, if he could, he would die for others. He would die knowing he had saved the better parts of his soul. He hoped his sacrifice would be a sufficient apology to Clary.

He kept walking.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Wow, 50 faves, I'm amazed! Thank you everybody for reading and taking interest in my story :D

There will be no rape in further chapters. I'm sorry if it was too disgusting, but that is what rape is. I hate the cliches where the victim later falls in love, and I wanted to show what a terrible sin it actually is. It was disgusting to you, imagine how sickening it was to me :/. It really took days for me to write that part.

Two things;

First of all, I won't be able to update this weekend. I'm going on a vacation! Woo hoo! And I've just got my copy of Lord of Shadows so I'm going to catch up on it.

Second, I've just made a new Twitter account to talk about Shadowhunters-books, movies, TV series and all. But the thing is, I have no one to talk to X'D  
It's not such a popular series in my country for some reason. I was wondering if there were anybody interested in fangirling (or -boying, I don't care) with me?  
The ID's carstairs_1861 if anyone is interested. And please tweet me after you follow :) Thanks!


	15. Chapter 15

Clary swatted at an ant crawling up her ankle. She was chained to a tree, sitting on the damp moss on the ground. Her back still ached from the whipping—Valentine was not happy that she had called Magnus father. He now had his back to her, inspecting a map. He had been gracious enough to give her a bottle of water, and Clary was contemplating how she could use it to murder Valentine. So far, she had no luck.

"How long are you going to keep me here?" Clary demanded. Her voice was still hoarse from screaming when the demon metal of the whip had cut into her back. "I've done my part of your plan. Let me go."

"Patience, Clarissa. I will let you go as soon as your friends get here," Valentine said without facing her. "Some of them have already alerted the Clave, so Sebastian is having trouble accessing the demon towers. You will be the key to clearing his path."

"Once I'm free, I will never follow your orders," she spat. At that, Valentine finally turned. Clary flinched, waiting for the burning pain, but Valentine answered with a smile. The curve of his lips was gentle, and she could see why he had been so popular and influential before the failure of the Uprising.

"I do not need your willingness," he simply said, confidence in his plans filling his voice. "It is your angel blood that will help me, not you."

"What, I'm supposed to unconsciously make a rune to break down the wards? Wonderful plan, Valentine."

"I should beat your habit of calling me by my name out of you, but I'm running out of time," he said with a frown tugging his eyebrows. "Your angel blood influences those around you, whether you like it or not. They can't help but love you—or rather, they can't help but love your blood. As a result, you will be the Clave's soft spot as well as their weakness. Keep this in mind, Clarissa: Those who pretend to love you, love your blood, nothing more. _No one loves you._ "

The words were like physical blows. The faces of her friends flashed behind her eyelids in a flurry. The image of a smiling Jace bloomed in her mind, but the thought was too painful to bear. Was every friend she made simply a spell she had cast unknowingly? Without Valentine's experiment on her, would Magnus have taken her in? The questions were a torrent in her mind, ripping apart the leftover self-respect that was cowering in the corners of her mind.

Her self-devouring questions were interrupted by a deafening explosion and a following shatter of the wards Valentine had put up. She automatically raised her head to Valentine, to see how he would retaliate. However, he seemed relaxed, his arms crossed in a relaxed manner. The map he was holding hung in his fingers, and Clary could see a flashing red spot.

"Jace Herondale, you chose quite a noisy entrance," Valentine said towards the shade of the trees.

A dark shape materialized out of the shadows, quickly shaping into the familiar figure of Jace as he stepped into the trickle of sunlight falling from between the leaves. His eyes were fierce yet red-rimmed with exhaustion; Clary could easily see that he had been forcing himself onward with the use of Energy runes. His hair was in messy tufts, bits of dry leaves visible inside the locks of dark gold. His hands were clenched tightly on a throwing knife. Her ring glinted imperiously on his finger.

"Let Clary go," he said.

"You look so much like Stephen, but the shape of your eyes come from Celine," Valentine said as he studied the boy. He held his hands up in surrender, but neither Jace nor Clary was fooled by the pretence. The map fluttered to the grass by his feet. Clary recognized where the flashing dot was indicating, and she realized that Valentine must have been tracking Jace and anticipated his arrival.

"Are you trying to quote Harry Potter? Because you've got the words all wrong," Jace replied. Not daring to take his eyes off Valentine, he indicated Clary with a small movement of his chin. "Release her from her confinement."

"My pleasure," he said with a treacherous grin. "But let me talk about your parents first. They were fine people, and I've dreamed of the chance to speak with their illustrious son."

Jace didn't reply. Clary could see how tense he was, ready to snap at any sign of trickery. She could see the throbbing pulse at his throat. Valentine seemed to gloat over his strain as his grin widened.

"Have you ever wondered why you seem to be faster, stronger, better than all other Shadowhunters? That was my gift to your mother, you know. The same angelic blood running thick through Clarissa's veins runs through yours, too, my boy. When she found out, she was disgusted by the idea of torturing an angel, and abandoned me and my Circle with Stephen. What a shame that was," he murmured, shaking his head in mock remorse. Jace still didn't reply, but his knuckles had gone white with strain. It was clear the talk of his parents shook him badly. "They had to be punished."

"You didn't kill them. It was—" Jace choked on his words, struggling to maintain his calm. Clary wanted to call out to him and comfort him, but she knew she would only be a distraction and give Valentine the moment he needed to wreak havoc.

"Oh, my dear child," Valentine sneered. "It was me. The spells of protection prevent demon possession. The demon lured your parents out and killed them, following my orders. I was there to smear your hands with your parents' blood. I know you have always wondered whether the demon had left a taint of evil in your soul that night. I know you had nightmares of falling from the heavens to the infernal abyss, to sit by the throne of Lucifer."

Clary tugged at her chains helplessly. Jace had gone pale, the blood drained from his face. Though his stance was still perfect, his hands were visibly quivering now. Valentine was clearly enjoying the situation; his arms were crossed once more, his fingers rhythmically tapping his arm.

"You were never cursed, nor were you ever the monster you thought you were," the man continued with glee. "You no longer have to live with the weight of their deaths on your shoulder, Jace. Is it not a blessing?"

At that moment, the blade left Jace's hands and glided through the air with the grace of a hunting hawk, singing as it sailed past the curtain of sunlight to Valentine's heart. Despite the overflow of emotions, his throw was true; it didn't so much as wobble. However, Clary instinctively knew something was wrong—she shouted out Jace's name, trying hard yet unsuccessfully to wrench herself from the chains.

As the silver knife touched Valentine's shirt, just above his beating heart, the blade vanished. Valentine barked a triumphant laugh as the blade reappeared from behind Jace's back, still flying as if nothing had interrupted its course. Jace turned at Clary's scream, but was still too slow; the knife buried itself into his shoulder. A yelp of surprise and pain escaped his lips, but he didn't fall. He staggered but regained balance, and winced as he pulled the knife from his shoulder. Blood gushed out from the wound in a sanguine cascade. Nausea twisted Clary's insides when she saw how deep the gash was.

"I will leave you for now," Valentine said, still wearing his deadly smile. "But let that be a warning the next time you think of fighting me, Stephen's boy." With a twist of his silver ring, he vanished like the knife had.

Jace stood there for a moment, his gold eyes burning with hatred. Clary held her breath, partly because she wanted to give Jace a moment to relieve what he had learned about his parents, and partly because the nausea was threatening to make her vomit. She lay her head on the trunk of the tree, exhaling heavily—she hadn't realized that she had been holding her breath. The chink of the chains seemed to bring Jace back to reality. He jerked into motion, swiftly leaping to her side in a movement too swift to follow with her eyes. His knife cut through the lock that held her in place with a clean swipe.

"Are you okay?" Jace breathed. His breath was uneven, his eyes shaking as he pulled her into a stifling caress. He was squeezing her too tightly, crushing the air from her lungs, but she liked it.

Clary's eyes teared up; the terror that she had tried so hard to conceal was exploding as Jace's presence surrounded her in a snug embrace. Her fingers grabbed his side, pulling him closer to her as ragged sobs shook her uncontrollably. She buried her face into his chest, absorbing the heat rolling off him in waves and the comforting strong beats of his racing heart. Even as the tears rolled down her cheeks, she found herself smiling, laughing, as it dawned on her that it was actually Jace. Not the Jace that had evanesced in the waking sun. It was the real Jace who would not disappear from her side, who she wouldn't wake up from.

"Jace," she mumbled into him. "Jace." She called his name again and again, and he answered, "Yes" every time his name tumbled out from her lips. Each answer was more reassuring than the last, and Clary found herself kissing Jace. Her hands clung to him as a falling man would grab a rope, as though her life depended on him. She felt him smile against her lips as he answered in an even fiercer kiss. She moved to wrap her arms around his neck before the hot touch of his blood made her push him away from her. His eyes were puzzled until he registered her startled but stern gaze.

"It's nothing. I've had worse," he said with a toothy grin. Clary shot him a disapproving scowl, hastily wiped the tears from her face with her sleeves, and grabbed the stele from his weapons belt. The tip of the stele glowed as she held it to his skin. The utensil was alive in her fingers, waiting eagerly for the _iratze_ to be drawn. She willed her powers to flow from her fingers to the swirling black lines of the healing rune. When she drew back, the wound was already knitting itself together.

Jace frowned. "It itches."

"It would have been a hell of a lot worse if I'd let you kiss me."

" _I_ , kiss _you?_ " Jace shook his head, incredulous. "We should have your brain checked."

"Where's Magnus? Where are Isabelle and Alec?"

"Magnus was too weak and drained of magic. A warlock with no magic is not a very helpful warlock, so I sneaked out while he was asleep. Izzy and Alec should be at Alicante by now. I'd told them to alert the Clave of Sebastian's plans." Jace straightened up, pulling Clary to her feet at the same time. His gold eyes were intent as he studied her from top to bottom. He slowly snagged the chain fastened around her neck, and lifted it above her head. He threw it to the grass, and kicked it away viciously. "I'm so sorry you had to go through everything. I should have been there by your side to protect you."

"It's not your fault. I trusted Sebastian, too." She shuddered as her mouth formed his name. Jace looked concerned, but she didn't—no, she couldn't—explain what she had went through. She leaned into him instead, and he wrapped an encouraging arm around her shoulders to steady her.

"Come on, let's get you to Magnus. He's probably awake and fuming by now," he said.

Clary found it hard to walk. The gashes on her back threatened to tear open at the smallest move, and the agony made her stagger. Jace's _iratze_ had no effect whatsoever, much to his chagrin. She refused to have him carry her; she wanted to look healthy when she met Magnus. She leaned on Jace for support, and Jace became her human crutch without a complaint.

Each step made her wince, but she forced herself to get used to the pain as the encampment Jace and Magnus had made slowly came into sight. Magnus was pacing by the burnt remains of a fireplace, a troubled frown on his face. Clary disentangled herself from Jace. He watched her worriedly, but she gave him a reassuring smile before she ran into the arms of a very surprised warlock.

"Clary!" Magnus exclaimed. He clutched her tightly, burying his face into her hair. He let out a shuddering breath, tickling her. He laughed, but it was a broken laugh; the relief in the sound was tainted with pain and regret. "I thought I'd lost you. I thought I'd never see you again. I would have traded the rest of my life for yours."

"I'm alright, I'm fine, Magnus. No need of trading lives. I need you alive," she murmured. She closed her eyes as Magnus's fingers ran through the locks of her hair, convincing himself that this wasn't a dream.

"God, I was so scared that I might lose you, biscuit," he pulled away from her, his eyes wet with tears. "And when I woke up with Jace not there—" He beheld Jace with a scolding look, but it easily melted into a grateful grin.

"I'll take that as a consent to date your daughter," Jace said with a crooked smile. Magnus's expression soured at that, but his eyes were still gleaming affectionately. Jace explained what had happened in the confrontation, including the details of his parents and his angel blood. Magnus frowned when he described the incident with the knife, nodding and mumbling under his breath. When Jace finally finished, Magnus looked up.

"As much as I would like to take you to Antarctica and hide you in an igloo, I'm needed at Alicante, and I'm sure the Clave would jump at the chance to make you give testimony about Valentine," Magnus said. "I've sent a fire message to the Consul. I've recovered enough to make a Portal to the Glass City."

At his words, a sense of terror rattled Clary. Jace put a hand to her shoulder, thinking it was the pain of the gashes that froze her. Magnus tilted his head like a cat, concern in his green-gold eyes. Clary took a step back and steadied herself. She could hear Valentine sneering in her head, _No one loves you._

"There's something I need to tell you," she started. As she relayed Valentine's words, she found herself carefully observing them. Wondering if they realized that their warm feelings for her were really for the experiment Valentine had done on her rather than for herself. But before she even finished, however, Magnus was shaking his head.

"Clary, you can't possibly think—" he broke off, heaving a sigh. "Look at Jace. He has angel blood in his veins, but heaven knows half of the Downworld despises him."

"Hey, there," Jace said mildly.

"It may be true that the angel blood makes you seem more charming than others. But it's just a first impression. Jace looks good enough on first sight, but it he had half the decent personality you have, I just might be able to stand him." Magnus patted Jace's shoulder. He didn't seem the least bit offended by Magnus's words. In fact, he almost seemed proud of his obnoxious personality.

"It's Valentine's favourite game, Clary," Jace added. "The Angel knows I'm still reeling from the truth of what had happened to my parents. I've been tortured in my dreams for all those years, because I let Valentine's schemes get under my skin. Don't let him do the same to you, too."

Clary nodded numbly, still doubtful. She wasn't convinced, but going to the Glass City seemed like the most reasonable option. Valentine did not hide his plans from her, and the Shadowhunters needed to know what the madman had in mind. And she wanted nothing more than a place she can feel secured in. It may not be home, but after what she had been through, even a cave would feel comfortable so long as it held her friends. She was leaning into Jace's firm embrace as Magnus conjured a Portal, through which she could see the outlines of the Gard. Hoping that the Glass City was as beautiful as she imagined, she stepped through the Portal, smiling slightly when the familiar magic in the air smelled like Magnus.

* * *

 **Author's Note**

Wow, 100+ Followers! Thank you all for reading my story :D I hope you're all enjoying it.

Thank you for the reviews, too. They keep me going :) It thrills me whenever I get the e-mail alerts that I have a new review.

Thank you, everyone! Feel free to give me any feedback!


	16. Chapter 16

Clary could vaguely register the murmuring voices around her. She felt as if she were swimming deep under the surface of the sea—everything above was muffled in the tides of her dreams. The dreams were whispering to her, in a familiar yet sinister voice. She struggled to make out the words, but it was like trying to get the radio signals from underground. When she thought she was just about to make sense of them, they fled from her grasp like fishes. While it was frustrating, it was somehow gratifying; beneath the urge to find out their meanings, a dreadful sense of terror tugged at her guts, warning her that she did not want to understand the whispers.

Instead of endeavouring to interpret the whispers, she focused on breaking away from the pull of her dreams. She focused on the murmurs—she recognized Jace's voice now—and wrestled against her heavy eyelids. The voices were growing clearer, though her eyelids refused to yield.

"Why isn't she waking up, though?" asked an angry female voice. Isabelle.

"She's probably been through a lot, Izzy," replied the strained voice of Alec. "Those whip marks—if I'd been through that, I wouldn't want to wake up for a long while. I've never seen something even the Silent Brothers can't heal."

"Maybe she thinks her rescue was a dream," Isabelle muttered.

Clary felt a warm pressure on her hand. Even though she couldn't see him, she knew it was Jace holding her hand. He said in a quiet voice, "I hope she can hear us. So she'd realize she has us to protect her."

"Speaking of protecting, where is Magnus, anyway?" Isabelle asked. "He was moping around about how it was the first time Alice—I mean, _Clary_ —had ever called him father, and now he's nowhere to be seen."

"He's with the Consul, strengthening the wards, I think. He thinks it's his fault Clary's been through all that." Jace's voice was bitter.

"It's not your fault either, Jace. It's Valentine and Sebastian's fault." Alec was soothing Jace, as a proper _parabatai_ should. Clary wanted to tighten her hands around Jace's, to comfort him.

"I think her finger twitched." Jace said, after a pause. "She must be waking up."

Clary heard a shuffling sound. "I'll go tell Magnus," Alec said. The door creaked open and made a soft noise as it shut.

She felt Jace's slender but strong fingers curl around hers. Isabelle sighed and muttered a complaint about how soppy looks made her want to puke. She felt Isabelle's affectionate yet not too gentle hands shake her shoulder. Jace mumbled a warning, but that was exactly what Clary needed. She managed to crack her eyelids open, squinting at the bright lights threatening to blind her.

When her eyes got used to the brightness, she slowly looked around her. She was in a soft bed, tucked up to her chin in a downy blanket. The entire wall by her side was a gigantic window, with sunlight spilling through it like a golden waterfall. Beyond the glass, she could see the garden that seemed to stretch to infinity, decorated with marble statues of angels and beautiful flowers that made the greenhouse of the Institute look lousy. Beside her, sitting in antique chairs were Isabelle and Jace, with an empty chair indicating Alec had been there, too.

"Where are we?"

"Alicante, at the Lightwood house. The Portal travel must have drained you; you fainted the moment you stepped out of it. The Silent Brothers did all they could, and said you needed rest, so we put you here." Isabelle's voice was pithy, as if she were giving a business report, but Clary could tell by the look in her eyes that she had been staying up to look after her. Clary patted her hand with a grateful smile.

"Now that you're awake, the Clave will want you to take the Mortal Sword and give testimony," Jace said grimly. "I tried to talk them out of it, that Valentine gave you up too easily, that you wouldn't know any of his plans. But you know the Clave—bunch of self-righteous idiots who will justify torture if they feel like it." He sounded angry. Isabelle shot him an admonitory look, though she didn't try to defend the Clave.

"They used it on me and Alec when we told them about Sebastian and what happened back at New York," Isabelle grimaced. "It's painful. It feels like fish hooks digging into your brain, dragging pieces of your mind out of the water, even those you want to conceal. They say it's not harmful, but I'd prefer tackling an army of Shax demons rather than going through _that_ again any day."

"You're scaring her, Izzy," he said. His fingers were still around hers, reassuring. "I'll be with you there, I promise. I'll hold the Sword with you."

"Remember I said _no soppy looks in front of me_?" Isabelle groaned.

"Not exactly. You just said that they made you feel queasy," he answered blandly. Isabelle threw her hands up in exasperation and stalked out of the room. Jace chuckled as the door slammed behind her. "That's just Isabelle making an excuse to give us some space."

"I hope so. I like her," Clary smiled. Under all that deadly toughness, Isabelle was the little sister of the trio. She seemed to rely on the others more than she let on. Clary had always wished for a sister. And Isabelle was the most awesome sister anyone could wish for.

 _But you have a brother,_ a voice whispered inside her. Clary froze, all the ordeals she had been through racing back to her like a tsunami. She had stashed them away deeper down in her mind, and now the dams she had put up to hold them back were exploding under the terrible memories' weight. She could feel the lashing pain on her back all over again, and she doubled up and screamed.

"Clary!" Jace was there by her side in a flash, holding her in a comforting embrace. She leaned into his shoulder, choking at the tearing pain. "It's okay, it's over. Clary, it's okay." He kept murmuring to her ear as she gasped for breath. Tears streamed down her face uncontrollably as the sobs savagely racked her whole body.

"I—I need to tell you something, before the Mortal Sword," she stammered. Jace steadily stroked her head comfortingly. She felt so small in his arms, cowering inside the protection of his warmth from the memories threatening to swallow her up. She was hesitant, dreading the face of disgust she would see after she did what she planned to. She took a shuddering, deep breath, glancing at his gold eyes for what confidence she could muster. He watched her with his eyes full of concern, though Clary wondered how long it would last, how long it would take it to shift to contempt.

"You can tell me, whatever it is," Jace whispered to her. "Except maybe about breaking up. Please don't tell me to stay away from you." He managed a playful smile, which she couldn't return. She closed her eyes, allowing the mollifying darkness to shield her from witnessing his revulsion.

The words clattered out from her salty lips like ugly pieces of trash. What had happened at the dark, evil bedroom. How the chains had burned her for every minor act of defiance. The pain that split the world in halves when the demon metal of the whip sliced into her skin and rattled her meagre body. The punishment for choosing the father she wanted, rather than the father she was born to. She hadn't known she was shivering until Jace squeezed her tightly.

"Look at me, Clary," he whispered. "Look at me. _Look at me._ " The final sentence was said with such force that her eyes involuntarily fluttered open. A pair of dark gold eyes stared back at her, blazing with such intensity that she couldn't tear herself away from them. She flinched at the fury burning inside them; he noticed, and they softened immediately. "None of this, none of what happened to you is your fault. You don't have to be ashamed of yourself. Screw that. You should _never_ be ashamed of yourself."

"If I had been stronger—"

"This is not about how strong you are. It's about what bastards they are, and how they deserve the worst death possible," he growled. He was seething with animosity, and while she was frightened, she was relieved that the antipathy was not directed at her. "I am going to kill them. I am going to make sure they crawl in the deepest pit of Hell. I swear on the Angel—"

"No, Jace," she interrupted. "Jace, it's enough. Just… can you hug me?" Her voice shook with uncertainty, still fearing that he would push her away from him. He was already hugging her, but he knew what she meant. His arms were unrelenting bonds around her, determined to keep her by his side even at the worst circumstances. And that was enough. Enough for her to break down once more, to weep into him.

He held her like that for what seemed like hours. She had grown exhausted, and no more tears came out. She just hung in his arms, finding solace in the warmth of his caress. When she became silent, he sung in a low, melodious voice, in a tone so small she couldn't hear the words. She closed her eyes, and though she didn't sleep, the melody calmed the storm in her head to a small drizzle. She felt a wave of reluctance when the tune diminished to an end.

"Feeling better?" Jace asked. Clary nodded, and pulled herself out of his arms. He studied her for a long time. She must have looked horrible, because he commented with a grin, "You don't look better."

"What was the song?"

"A song I will sing to you every day if we survive this war Valentine is brewing," he replied. "But honestly, you still look ghastly. Let's talk about something that would calm you." He glanced at her with a question in his eyes.

"Magnus," she said after a long moment of thinking. "I miss him."

"Magnus, it is," Jace said after stretching his neck. She felt guilty—he must have been stiff from holding her for so long. "What is your favourite memory of him?"

"There are so many to choose from," she sighed. It was a happy sigh, a sigh that lifted the weight from her heart. "Raphael doesn't really get along with Magnus, so he pretended to bite me in front of him once, purely to spite him. Magnus was _so furious_." Clary said with a laugh. "He placed a permanent glamour on Raphael so he would have green skin for the rest of his eternal life. But Raphael kind of enjoyed it, being the same colour as Ragnor Fell, a warlock friend of Magnus's. That just infuriated him more, and he took the glamour off Raphael."

"I would love to see that smug little vampire green," Jace commented wistfully. "Speaking of Magnus's warlock friends, I remember when you said a warlock—I think her name was Catarina—specialized in healing magic. What magic does Magnus specialize in?"

"Being the High Warlock of Brooklyn, he's pretty much great at most magic," Clary said with a shrug. "But he always loves performing memory magic. He says it's like a puzzle, modifying the web of the mind to create an entirely different story. He was inventing another magic before I got in this mess. I wonder if he's perfected it."

"What was it?"

"It's a complex memory magic that makes the person forget a subject even as he sees or hears or senses it, or even mentions of it." Clary's lips curled as she remembered the warlock bursting with enthusiasm as he proudly announced his latest project. "Let's say he placed it on you to make you forget Isabelle. If I talk about how Izzy had just murdered a Behemoth demon at the dinner table, it would be as if you never heard me speaking. Izzy would be invisible to you; your mind swerves around her existence."

"That sounds amazing," he said with genuine interest. "How much progress did he make that you know of?"

"He said he could do it, but it would be temporary. Won't last more than a few years. I don't know if he found out a way to make it permanent." She then realized how Jace was right. Talking about Magnus not only took her mind off the nightmares, but also gave her a sense of soothing. She had people she loved, an emotion that overpowered her hatred for her father and brother. Magnus would always be there for her, until her dying breath.

Clary saw a flicker of light with the corner of her eyes. When she turned to Jace, he had a folded piece of parchment in his fingers, with a wisp of smoke curling from its edges. He held it out to her so she could see the letters scrawled in the familiar handwriting of Magnus.

 _"_ _I'm glad you woke up. The Consul wants to start interrogating you immediately, but I told her you still need time to heal. Rest for the day; you deserve it. I'm at the demon towers trying to figure out a way to keep Sebastian away from them. I'm sorry I can't be there for you. I love you, Clary."_ Jace read the letter aloud, then flipped the paper over. There was a small P.S. on the back of the sheet. " _Tell Jace I will murder him if he lays more than a finger on you. And I will make his corpse swell up like that woman from Harry Potter. He will be on the Guinness Book of World Records for the fattest corpse._ Wow, Magnus really does mean business, doesn't he?"

"You already laid more than a finger on me," she pointed out.

"Well, you didn't give me much of a choice."

"True," she admitted with a grin. "Then it won't matter if you lie by my side as I drift off to sleep."

"Apart from the fact that Magnus will make me fat, no, it won't matter." He smirked as he tugged himself into the blanket. Clary snuggled into his chest. All the crying had left her drained, and her eyelids were already drooping when Jace murmured words she couldn't hear clearly. All she registered was the steadiness of the rise and fall of his chest as slumber washed over her tired mind.

 _I love you,_ she thought sleepily. He must have somehow heard it, because she felt a laughing breath on her cheek as she finally fell asleep.

* * *

 **Author's Note**

Announcement: I've started Wattpad! You can find me by ( Carstairs-Fairglade), and I will be editing and posting The Warlock's Child from the start.  
I promise it won't collide with my posting here.

I have also started Tumblr, and you can find me by ( carstairs-fairglade) here, also.  
Please feel free to interact / do whatever people do on Tumblr with me :)  
I'm in sore need of friends who I can talk to about the books rather than the TV series.

Thanks everyone! Love you lots :D


	17. Chapter 17

_Clary was standing in a place she didn't recognize. It was a manor, one of the finest she had ever seen. Roses of different colours climbed the mellow gold walls of the manor, with iron balconies overlooking the sloping emerald hill. She hesitantly approached the grand wooden door, with the gilded designs of wings. When she touched the silver handle—it was the shape of a single, outstretched angelic wing—she realized what she was looking at. It was the Fairchild manor, standing high and mighty as it had been before Valentine had burned it down._

 _"_ _Beautiful, isn't it?" A feminine voice, with an accent Clary couldn't quite identify, made her turn. A woman stood in front of her, wearing a welcoming smile. She had short black hair and kindly eyes that matched the benevolent curve of her red lips. Clary somehow knew who the woman was; it was Jia Penhallow, the current Consul._

 _"_ _Yes, it is," she replied truthfully. Jia smiled and gently ruffled her red locks. There was something motherly about the act, her heart throbbed with longing. She was about to ask the Consul what she was doing here when she felt a cold hand touch hers._

 _Alarmed, she whirled to see who it was, and met the terrifying black gaze of her brother. Another hand clamped over her mouth, he guided her hand to the hilt of a shortsword she did not know she had. It was a beautiful weapon made of glittering black gold and_ adamas _, with a trail of black stars on the blade, glinting cruelly in the sunlight._ Heosphoros, _Jonathan whispered in her mind._ The sword of the Morgensterns.

 _She tried to struggle away from him, but his grip on her was too strong. She could hear Jia talk as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. She wanted to cry out, to yell at Jia to run away, but however much she strained her vocal cords, no sound came out. Jonathan forced her fingers to grab the hilt. A sharp noise rang through her bones as the sword was pulled out from its scabbard. A single cry of despair managed to escape her lips before the blade plunged itself into the heart of the Consul, splattering Clary's face and hands with her scarlet blood._

You have a dark heart in you, Valentine's daughter, _whispered Jonathan laughingly into her ear._

Clary woke up with a start, sweat beading on her forehead. Her hands automatically reached for Jace, but her fingers caught only the empty blanket. She noticed with dismay that she was alone in the room. She heaved herself from the bed, wobbling a little when her feet touched the ground. She felt weak, and her throat was parched to a crisp. She hobbled to the door to push it open, but she ran into Jace instead. The silver tray he had been holding fell to the ground, making an awful racket.

"I should have known you would spring up from your bed as soon as you woke up." Jace commented with an amused air in his tone. Ignoring the mess, he swept her up in his arms as a knight would hold a damsel in distress and carefully laid her on the mattress. She winced when his arms brushed against her wounds. He grabbed a towel from the table and returned to the puddle of water and wrecked porridge. Clary watched as the boy wordlessly wiped the floor.

"Sorry." Clary felt wretched for not having enough energy to even lift herself off the bed again to help him. He glanced at her over his shoulders, his eyes smiling.

"Don't be," he replied. "You may have to speak with Magnus about something, though."

"Magnus?"

Jace paused, then turned away from her shrewd eyes. "Magnus had been waving a red-hot poker in my face, so it might be possible that I have diverted his attention by telling him a small lie. Just a tiny one, about you letting a particular vampire bite you out of curiosity."

Clary gasped. Her voice was not so feeble as before; it was strengthened with incredulous anger and hurt from betrayal. "Why, you—"

"Language, Bane." Jace straightened up, and disappeared behind the door before the stele Clary threw could strike him in the head. It bounced off the door harmlessly, clattering to the ground. Clary yelled profanities at him as his audible snickers teased her. She was still fuming when he returned with a second tray.

"Magnus is going to be so mad at me." Clary grumbled after she drained the cup of water. The coolness of it cleared her mind, allowing her to picture a furious Magnus. Jace took the glass from her, and held a spoonful of porridge to her lips. "I can feed myself, thanks." She reached to snatch the bowl and spoon from his hands, but he swiftly evaded her fingers.

"Magnus decided the punishment would be you having to be hand-fed your porridge," he said with a smirk.

"You're lying."

"I solemnly swear he said exactly that," he replied. He raised the spoon to her lips once more. She scowled, wondering if she could murder him if she glared at him hard enough. He was close to laughter, and showed no effort to hide it. She sighed heavily and opened her mouth. Jace wore a satisfied grin as he shoved the spoon into it.

After a few humiliating scoops of porridge, she managed to pluck the bowl from his lap. He protested, but didn't make a move to retrieve it. She finished the contents in seething silence, though it only seemed to amuse Jace more. He refilled the glass with water when she handed the now empty bowl back.

"You might want to get ready; the Inquisitor wants you at the Accords Hall by midday," he informed her. "The bathroom is the first door to the right of this room. We couldn't bring your clothes here, so you'll just have to borrow some of Isabelle's."

"Her clothes can't possibly fit me," she said gloomily. She climbed out of her bed and followed Jace as he escorted her to the bathroom. She rolled her eyes when he mimicked a curtsy and firmly shut the door in his face. She ripped open a packet of a new toothbrush.

Finally being left alone, her mind drifted to the dream she had as she brushed her teeth in a daze. She knew it couldn't have been a true dream, the kind of dreams of the future that Magnus sometimes had. The manor was burnt to the ground in reality, and there was no reason for her to slip out of Alicante to head for the manor. But the dream had been almost too vivid, too real to brush off as a normal dream. And she saw Jia Penhallow in the dream, though she hadn't even met the Consul before.

Not to mention the icy touch of Jonathan's hands, which were more than lifelike. Though the mirrors had gone misty from the hot water spraying from the showers, Clary shivered. She scrubbed her hands with soap thoroughly, desperately trying to remove the lingering touch of his fingers on them. Even though the warm water soothed her wounds from Valentine's lashing, it couldn't ease her mind off his chilling whisper.

She wrapped herself in a bathing gown. It was too long for her, and trailed behind her like a medieval dress. There wasn't a trace of Jace, though he had left a small violet dress with a stylish strap where she could carry a stele and a weapon, and an emerald old-fashioned cloak with a pattern of flames sequined on the hem in silver. Clary felt a deep craving for a cup of coffee as she got ready. Did they even have cafes in Alicante?

The dress was short, even for Clary, and was closefitting. She was thankful she had the cloak to cover the curves of her body. She suspected it was a dress from Isabelle's younger years. She tied her hair into a messy bun, tucking the stray strands of hair behind her ears. She pulled on the pair of boots Jace had left by the side of the bed. She had barely pulled the zipper up when there was a sharp knock on the door.

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah," Clary replied. The door creaked open and Jace poked his head through the gap. He seemed to have combed his formerly rumpled hair into a neat pile.

"Great, you're ready," he said with a grin spreading on his face. "Let's go."

They walked through the streets of Alicante, with Jace pointing out the name of shops or the owners of houses they passed. There were more Shadowhunter family names than she had ever cared to take note of in the past: the Penhallows, the Whitelaws, the Carstairs, the Cartwrights, the Blackthorns, the Wrayburns, and so on. Jace recited interesting family histories now and then, including a tale of the Herondales, the Carstairs, and the Branwells; how they had defeated an army of infernal automatons and protected the Nephilim from their demise.

She was so fascinated by the stories of past Shadowhunters that she was almost disappointed when they had finally reached the Accords Hall. However, such displeasure immediately dissipated when Clary laid her eyes on the fabled Halls. The building was a magnificent sight, built with large slabs of white marble rising to meet the sky. A Shadowhunter dressed in formal gear greeted them with a nod, and led them inside the building. Clary sucked in an impressed breath as the interior of the hall became visible. The golden sunlight falling through the enormous glass skylight above illuminated the Shadowhunters, who were gathered in a circle around a marble dais and the large mermaid fountain standing on top of it.

"Clarissa Morgenstern, step onto the dais," a man standing on the dais announced. He was a dark-haired man with frosty eyes, holding the Mortal Sword with his chin held up high. Jace whispered in her ear that the man was Inquisitor Whitelaw, and held her hand encouragingly as they stepped forward in unison. The Inquisitor did not look pleased when Jace approached the dais with her, but he didn't comment on it. He simply held out the Soul-Sword so Clary could hold it. Jace covered her hand with his, so that they both were holding the hilt of the sword.

The sword seemed to hook itself into her palm, sending raw tingles down her spine. It was heavy, almost too heavy to bear, but it clung to her hands like a magnet. _Such is the weight of the truth,_ she heard a whisper in her mind. Though it was a strain to hold it, it was a strain to let it go, too. The warmth of Jace's firm hand was the only thing that kept her from throwing the sword away from her with fright.

"Bearers of the Sword, name yourselves." The Inquisitor's gravelly voice seemed to activate the sword. The thrumming power of the sword grew stronger, and Clary couldn't stop the words tumbling from her mouth.

"I am Clarissa Bane, daughter of Jocelyn Fairchild and Valentine Morgenstern." There was a slight tremor in her voice. Noticing it, Jace's grasp on her hand tightened.

"I am Jace Lightwood Herondale, son of Stephen Herondale and Celine Montclaire," he said. His voice rang through the hall, clear and confident.

"Clarissa, you bear the name of a warlock. Why is that so?"

"My mother had escaped from the Clave, to hide me in the mundane world. She had gone to Magnus Bane to remove the Sight from me, but on her way to retrieve the required payment, she was captured by Valentine. Magnus has raised me ever since." Her voice was steady now. She met Jace's glance, and he shot a supportive smile.

"What happened to your mother?"

The question triggered a memory she had frantically buried, but her lips were already shaping the words. "When Valentine whipped me for disobedience, he implied that my mother had committed suicide not long ago."

"What do you know of Valentine's plans?"

Clary took a deep breath before answering. This was what she had come to Alicante for. She had forced down her sobs and drowned the reality of what Jonathan had done to her that night, to listen in on what Valentine and Jonathan had been discussing at the break of dawn.

"Valentine has used dimension magic to hide his army of demons within the borders of Idris. When Jonathan succeeds, and Alicante is stripped of its wards, he will summon the demons to wreak havoc on the Glass City. When the Shadowhunters are busy facing the demons, he plans on summoning Lilith, and using the power of every _adamas_ and rune in the city, to destroy her once and for all. He believes that destroying her would put an end to the Incursion."

Panicked chatter broke out among the gathered Shadowhunters. She glanced at Jace, who returned the gaze with wide-open, alarmed eyes. He clearly hadn't been expecting her words, either. The Inquisitor yelled several times to calm the audience, but his efforts were in vain. Though the annoyance was clear in his eyes, his voice was composed when he asked the two to join the Consul at the Gard. Clary nodded, and gratefully handed him the Sword.

They slipped between the crowd of Shadowhunters, Jace cutting a path and Clary following him nimbly, thanking her short size for the first time in her life. She smiled with relief when Jace half-shouted over the commotion that Magnus and the Lightwoods would be at the Gard, too. She missed her father, as well as her friends, more even than a cup of steaming black coffee.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Okay, that was one review I was not happy to see. Please refrain from voicing non-relevant religious views on the Reviews. It's really unnecessary, and I can't even delete it (as far as I know, happy to be corrected).

Some of you may have noticed, but I have posted the renewed Prologue for this story on Wattpad and AO3.  
I've added quite a lot to the story; the part with Jocelyn leaving Clary with Magnus is much longer now. You may as well check it out! :)

Thanks again everyone for following and fave-ing the story, and leaving reviews! I appreciate your kindness :3


	18. Chapter 18

The silver gates to the Gard stood up like a sore thumb, surrounded by the dark stone of the structure around them. Curving lines decorated the gate like twisting vines, and on a closer look, Clary could see that they were Marks of protection, wrought in a calligraphic interpretation. The lines ended in four Cs, which flashed brighter in the sunlight. Clary knew what they stood for: Clave, Council, Covenant, and Consul.

Clary raised her fingers to touch the gate, but Jace stopped her with a halting hand. She looked up to see him smile shyly—Jace, _shy?_ She watched in bewilderment as he reached into his jacket and pulled out a thick book the size of an adult's hand that she recognized with a gasp of incredulous laughter.

"A dictionary? Really, Jace?" Clary took the dictionary from his offering hands and flipped through the pages. Letters as small as ants were printed on the thin pages, and she could smell the scent of old books.

"It's not just any dictionary," he said, grinning. "Try looking for tidiness."

Clary shook her head in disbelief, but did as she was told. Sure enough, under the list of definitions for _tidiness_ was a line scrawled in Jace's looping cursives: _See also; Jace Herondale._ She flipped through the pages once more, this time skimming through its contents more carefully. Sure enough, she found the same line under _dazzling, gorgeous, ingenious, magnificent_ , and _stunning_. She gave him a long look, though a smile crept up her lips.

"This is the least romantic gift I have ever received," she remarked. "When did you even get this?"

"While you were asleep yesterday," he shrugged. "Today is your first conscious day in Alicante, and I thought you might like a little souvenir."

"It's hardly little. And I don't have any pockets to put this in." Clary patted the cloak she was wearing, showing him its unfortunate lack of pockets.

"Here, you can have my jacket." Jace shrugged out of his jacket, wearing only a short-sleeved black shirt underneath. Clary tore her eyes from the white reminiscent scars of faded Marks on his arms to pull the cloak off her shoulders. It tumbled to the ground, as green as the crisp grass around them. Her head snapped up when Jace made a choking sound that sounded suspiciously like a concealed laugh.

"What?"

"That dress was Isabelle's when she was thirteen. And it fits you… very well." Clary glanced down at the dress she was wearing, and blushed. Even though Magnus had sometimes forced his flamboyant taste on her wardrobe, most of her clothes consisted of simple jeans and shirts. Nothing that stuck to her like a second skin as the dress she was now wearing.

"Stop looking at me, you pervert," she snapped, and snatched the jacket from his hands. It was much too big for her, and she had to fold the sleeves several times so that her fingers peeked out from the edges. Jace leaned in to help her, and smiled in satisfaction when they finished.

"I know you're the same age as me, but when I look at you and you're so adorably small, I feel as if I'm cradle-robbing." Jace chuckled softly. He tucked the dictionary into an inner pocket, so that the book rested just against her heart. He bent to pull the zipper up to her chin. Clary held her breath when he leaned in close enough so she could see his curling lashes and those sweet gold eyes she loved.

"Thank you for the present." Clary tried to sound indifferent, but the words came out in a whisper.

"There's more, you know." Jace said with a smile. "Words with updated definitions, I mean. When all this mess is over, I can help you look for them."

"Wow, that sounds like so much fun," Clary replied, but her heart wasn't in the sarcasm. She stood on her tiptoes to brush her lips on his. Jace cupped her face with gentle hands, but she pushed him away. His eyes were wide with puzzled disbelief. "No."

"No?"

"No, and stop _staring_ at me like that as if I'm demented. I can't be the first person ever to say _no_ to you," Clary chided, but when Jace made a peculiar expression, she frowned. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Let's just get to the part where you explain why you said no, shall we?" Jace said in a placid voice.

"I'm not going to run into Magnus after a kissing session." Clary declared. Ignoring Jace's snorts of laughter, she pushed open the gates. She saw Jace pick up the fallen cloak with the corner of her eyes as the gate swung open smoothly, revealing the grassy meadow that looked as bright as ever inside the dark walls of the citadel. Her eyes wandered over the stretch of green until she met the amused gazes of Magnus, the Lightwoods, and the dark-haired woman Clary recognized from her dream.

"A heart-warming kiss," Magnus remarked. "I'd give it a five out of ten, though, because I don't approve of your boyfriend."

"You were _spying_ on us?" Clary demanded. She pressed her palms to her cheeks, feeling the heat rise up into them.

"The gates aren't exactly walls, you know." Isabelle rolled her eyes. "It was almost like you were asking to be seen."

"Well, we weren't," Jace said pleasantly. "but I would have. I enjoy being the centre of everyone's attention." He strode over to the gathered friends, and Clary followed reluctantly. Her resentment at being watched at such an intimate moment faded immediately when Magnus flung her into a stifling hug. He was crushing her ribs, but she knew he had been worried sick. When he finally released her, she noticed the dark circles beneath his eyes, the colour of bruises.

"You've overworked yourself," she said with concern.

"I needed to," he simply said. He gestured to the Consul beside him. "Clary, this is Consul Penhallow. Jia, this is Clary."

"So this is the famous warlock's child," Jia said, her lips pulled in a warm smile. "I'm delighted to meet you, though I'm sorry at the same that we couldn't meet under more… pleasant circumstances." She held out a slender hand, scarred and calloused like all Shadowhunters' hands were. Clary shook it gingerly.

"We were just talking about Valentine's plans. We received a fire-message from Inquisitor Whitelaw describing your testimony." Magnus wore a grim expression, and his eyes, normally bright with the pure joy of life, looked tired more than anything. "This is bad. If he manages to do what he plans to do, all the _adamas_ of the Nephilim's weapons and the runes on their skin will lose power. They'll be little more than simply athletic mundanes. They'll be slaughtered by his demon army."

"We can't afford to let that happen," Jia agreed. She continued the conversation by describing strategies that included too many locations Clary didn't even recognize. She didn't bother to follow the exchange. She simply hung back and watched as they talked, Alec joining in occasionally to suggest a plan. Jace was speaking to Isabelle, who was nodding studiously. Despite the situation, it felt so peaceful, like an ordinary day outside. Clary closed her eyes, feeling the breeze run over her hair, and she froze.

She felt the same icy hand from her dream wrap over her mouth, though they weren't visible. Another hand guided hers to the strap under her jacket. She hadn't carried any weapons, but her fingers closed over the metal of the hilt, shuddering at its familiarity. Heosphoros. She tried to struggle, but she was as helpless as she had been in her dream. The same deadly sound echoed in her ears as the blade pulled itself from its scabbard. Despite Clary's desperate struggles, everyone seemed oblivious to what was happening.

Heosphoros was now completely free from its confinement, her hand gripping it tightly. Clary could almost hear Jonathan laughing into her ear. This was what Valentine wanted, not some trick with her angel blood. She shut her eyes, wishing hopelessly that someone would notice. She could almost feel Jia's hot blood on her face, burning like the chains that had been around her neck.

Then she jerked the hand Jonathan's magic was gripping with all her might, letting it pierce her free hand. The sharp pain broke the spell; her brother's cold touch was no longer there. There was an angry red line across her palm, and Clary's knees buckled. She fell on her knees ungraciously, still grateful for the throbbing pain of her hand. She let go of the shortsword, which dropped the ground silently. There was an alarmed noise, surprisingly like a strangled cat's, and everyone was around her.

"What is it?" Magnus pulled her up by her uninjured hand. Jace picked up the sword, his eyebrows knitted in a frown.

"I didn't see you carrying this. Where did you get this sword, Clary?" Jace held it up so everyone could see the black stars on the blade, a daunting reminder of Jonathan's glittering black eyes.

"It's a Morgenstern sword," Magnus said. "Clary, what happened? You look like you've see a ghost."

"It— it's Jonathan. He—" Before she could say another word, a shadow dropped from the towering dark walls of the Gard. Clary stumbled backwards when she met the dark gaze of the one she feared most. The others followed her gaze, and froze when they recognized who they were beholding.

Brushing his white hair back with his hand, Jonathan stood with a sinister smile slicing his features. He was holding a black knife, poised to throw it into the heart of anyone who dared move. He was as beautiful as ever; pale as marble, and feral as a panther. His eyes swept over the Shadowhunters, and finally lingered at Clary. She was stuck there, transfixed like a rabbit staring into the haunting eyes of a serpent.

"Let me explain for my dear sister," he said, still watching Clary with a predatory grin. "I had put a spell on her to haunt her dreams—shame on you, half-breed, for not placing on her the spells that protect all Nephilim children from demonic influence—and persuade her to murder the Consul. No hard feelings," he added, his eyes momentarily flicking to Jia. "your death is the only thing that would cause enough confusion for me to climb the demon towers, you see."

"Too bad you failed," Jace snarled. Before Clary could reach out to stop him, he flung himself at the white-haired boy in a movement too swift to follow. But Jonathan was faster; in a heartbeat, Jace was thrust to the ground, and Jonathan's boot was at his throat. A scream ripped itself out from Clary's throat, and she started forward, but there was a flash of gleaming black, and she toppled to the earth. Her hands automatically reached for her heart, and touched the black handle protruding from the gape in Jace's jacket she was wearing.

"Clary!" Magnus sounded frantic, but she shook her head. She pulled the blade out, thanking the heavens that Jace had tucked the dictionary over her heart. It was probably ruined, but she couldn't let her mind linger on it. Before she could even register what was happening, she launched herself at her bemused brother, who easily dodged her strike.

"Thank you for delivering my knife," he said, still wearing his devilish grin as he snatched the blade from her fingers. "Much as I'd like to play with you further, I'm a very busy man." He kicked Jace away from him, who rolled into a standing position, glaring murderously at the boy. He pulled Clary harshly to his side by her collar, and slid the knife to her throat. "One wrong move, warlock, and my sister here dies." Magnus's hands were glowing with blue flames, but Clary knew he was using up all his remaining magic just to keep it from being snuffed out. Isabelle's silver-gold whip slid out dangerously, but Jia held her back. She had her arms spread in front of the Lightwoods, as if to shield them from the imminent danger.

"What do you want, Valentine's son?" Jia's voice was unwavering, confident. From Downworld rumours Clary knew that Jia was a formidable Shadowhunter, but she was no match for Jonathan. However, not a hint of uncertainty was in her black eyes, and Clary realized what made Jia Penhallow so dangerous; she was willing to sacrifice her life in order to protect those around her.

She felt Jonathan's grip on her ease a fraction. She took that chance to bring her foot down on his, to let the heel of her boot dig into his foot. He cursed as he staggered backwards, his balance momentarily lost. Clary took that chance to wrestle him to the ground, but as they tumbled to the grass, Clary realized the knife was no longer in his hands.

It was Isabelle's scream that made Clary whirl to face what had happened, her heart sinking in despair. Jia's eyes were wide open with shock, blood spreading on the front of her shirt. Her lips were parted in a soundless gasp, and her lifeless body slumped to the ground. The emerald blades of grass were tainted with crimson. She felt Jonathan shake with laughter under her. Jace lunged at him with Heosphoros in his hand, but he had winked out of existence, as if he hadn't been there all along.

Though it had not been her hand that pierced Jia's heart, Clary could taste the hot blood of the Consul in her mouth, as vivid and sharp as it had been in her dream. She could do nothing but watch as Alec held a stele in his shaking hand to draw an _iratze_ , and Magnus hover over the corpse to cling on to what life force that may lie hidden inside her. Their futile flurry seemed to be played in slow motion in Clary's eyes. She hid her face behind her hands, begging to the heavens to take her instead, and not Jia.

But the heavens were not listening. They never did. Bitter tears ran hot on her cheeks as she picked up Heosphoros from Jace's hands, and wrapped her own hands around its blade. Jace did not stop her as the blade cut into her hands, drawing scarlet blood. Her blood fell to the ground in fat drops, dampening the soil. It was her way of praying to Jia, to ask for forgiveness. It was Clary who should have died.

She bent her head, watching numbly the sanguine drops wet the earth. Each droplet seemed to condemn her for not having the courage to end her own life for the sake of others. Everyone around her had died. First it was Alaric, then Emil, and now it was Jia. She could not bear to lose another, yet she couldn't make herself end the curse by pushing the blade into her own heart. _I'm a coward_ , she thought, the words foul in her head. _A bloody coward who saves her own skin by sacrificing others._

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Thanks, Jace5000, for suggesting I report the not-review. I tried, though the staff seems a little too busy to be working on that right now :/ Thanks though! :D

And thank you too, .dream30, for the idea of Jace seeing Clary without the cloak XD I wasn't thinking of it until I saw your review!

Thanks everyone for everything. I love you all! :)


	19. Chapter 19

Everything was a blur from then, as if Clary had been stopped in time while the rest of the world was spinning in fast-forward. Clary was vaguely aware of someone pulling her, dragging her to the blindingly white structure of the Accords Hall. There was a distinct chatter that she barely registered. They were probably in heated argument on how to prepare for Valentine's attack.

The moment Magnus's magic was depleted from his futile attempts to save Jia, the protection wards around the demon towers had vanished. Then one by one, the demon towers lost their glowing light as Jonathan's demon blood finally destroyed Alicante's wards. The wards were a religion to the Nephilim; the wards' invulnerability was a gift from Raziel, after all. Their devastation at the loss of their protection was as strong as their flawed belief that Jonathan's plan would fail.

Clary waited quietly, perched on a chair by the wall, waiting for the Council to make a decision. They didn't have much time—the demons would probably come at nightfall, when the sunlight won't burn their skin—but they were still bickering as to where the main forces should be placed. She felt someone sit next to her, but she didn't turn. His soft, quiet movements betrayed who it was, and she didn't need to see him to confirm her assumption.

"They're in an awful mess, aren't they?" Jace stretched his neck casually, as if they were watching a rather boring game of football. "If they had only protected the towers as we had warned them, instead of flinging the duty to Magnus, they wouldn't be in such chaos."

"It's the Clave. I'm not that shocked, really," she replied. She stared down at her hands. Not a stain of blood on them, despite the people she had indirectly killed.

"Where's Magnus?"

"He's calling all the Downworlders he can contact. Warlocks who had borrowed his spellbooks once in a while. Vampires he had helped in the past. Werewolves whose wounds he had treated. Faeries who owe him a debt." Clary leaned on him, her head resting on his steady and warm shoulders. "There's a saying in the Downworld, you know _. It takes a Downworlder to clean up a Shadowhunter mess_."

"I was not aware of that," Jace said with a hint of amusement in his voice. He tilted his head so it touched hers in an affectionate gesture. "They haven't decided over anything important yet, but they seem to have agreed to make us to stay here. All the children, locked up in a safe place."

"And we're well-known for abiding rules," she said, her lips curling into a smile.

"That, we are," he replied with his crooked grin. "I suppose there will be no point in asking you to stay?"

"Nope." Jace sighed at her answer, though Clary knew he had anticipated it. She added for good measure, "Not if you want to end up bleeding to death like the last time you left me behind."

Before Jace could reply, the voice of the Inquisitor boomed across the halls, calling for attention. The halls fell silent. Clary raised her head from Jace's shoulder to glance at the tall figure standing by the mermaid fountain.

"The Council has come to a conclusion," he announced. "Everyone under the age of 18 are to stay in the Accords Hall for safety. Fifty soldiers are to guard and protect the Accords Hall, while the others will be stationed at the Gard. A team of scouts will search for Valentine and his son." His voice bounced off the marble walls as he listed teams of Shadowhunters and their assignments.

Clary was listening idly when Jace grabbed her hand. He put a finger to his curled lips before Clary's mouth could form a question. Clary kept her face to the floor as they slipped between the crowd, though she still attracted some curious glances from the children. Rumours had spread like a wildfire, and suddenly she was the hottest topic in Idris. She hid her face behind a veil of her red hair as she was pulled along.

A gust of wind brushed away the strands of her hair from her face. A guard turned to stop them, but without warning, Jace had started to run. Though she could only barely keep up with him, she had a feeling Jace was making an effort to slow down for her. When Clary risked a glance behind her back, she found that the guard had given up and returned to his post. Jace, noticing as well, slowed to a walk.

"Hey, guys!" Clary turned to see Isabelle, Alec, and Magnus waiting for them by a house with a slanting lavender roof. Magnus still seemed almost ill with fatigue, but he managed a wry smile when they approached.

"With the wards down, I managed to bring the Downworlders to the borders of Alicante. They won't join in until things get really serious, though." Magnus glanced at the sky, which was now tinged with the muted orange of sunset.

"What's our plan, then?" Alec swiped a lock of black hair from his eyes. They were a startling blue in the natural light of the falling sun.

"They're sending scouts to search Alicante, and they're protecting the Gard since they think that's where Valentine would start his ritual, but I've got a feeling Valentine won't be here. That would be too predictable." Jace frowned, as if deep in thought. "I've been thinking… Lake Lyn. All the pictures depicting Raziel show him rising from Lake Lyn. Why not have a Greater Demon rising from it instead?" A thoughtful silence enveloped the group. Magnus's bright eyes were hidden behind eyelids.

"It's only a guess, but it's a good one." Magnus finally said. "Valentine had been near Lake Lyn when we confronted him, when it would have been much more efficient if he had Portaled to somewhere nearer to Alicante."

"There is the story that before Jonathan Shadowhunter summoned Raziel, Lake Lyn was a tear in the fabric of our dimension. The biggest entrance for demons," Alec added. "It would kind of make sense."

"I'll make the Portal," Clary suggested. "But we'll need to be prepared. I can't fight in a dress."

"And I will need at least an hour of rest," Magnus said grimly.

The streets were empty, so it was easy enough for the team to sneak into the Lightwoods' house without getting caught. Magnus was slumped on a velvet sofa large enough to be a bed. Not long after he closed his eyes, he was in a deep slumber. Clary could see his eyes move behind their lids as he dreamed. The rest of them were gearing up for the fight. Leaving the runes that fade faster for later, Clary drew Marks on the arms and backs of her friends, hoping they would save them from harm. She wished she could make a Mark for Invincibility or Being Swifter than Half-Demon Shadowhunters, but she knew it was ridiculous.

"Your turn," Jace said, pulling Clary from her reverie. She hesitated. She didn't have many Marks because she had been posing as a warlock for over a decade. She didn't even have a Voyance rune, a rune that all Shadowhunters have; it had to be on the back of her right hand, which would be too difficult to hide. Clary stood still as he inked runes on her arm, wincing when he pressed too hard.

"Are those permanent?" Clary watched as Jace drew carefully on her skin, his gold eyes burning with concentration.

"I was going to ask you about that. Do you still need to pretend to be a warlock?" Jace quickly looked up before bending his head again to trace another Mark.

"Not any longer. I guess there's no point hiding from Valentine now," she replied.

"You don't have any permanent ones?"

"No, I've only used the temporary Marks before." Jace nodded at her answer. He had finished inking up her arm. Clary observed it, feeling detached, as if she were studying someone else's arm. The strong zigzags and curves were alien on her normally unmarked arm.

"I'll put the permanent ones on your back, then." Clary sat on a stool as Jace knelt on the floor and swept her hair to one side. He pulled the soft fabric of her dress downward to etch the Marks on the curve of her neck and the back of her shoulders. It stung more than the other runes, and Clary had to bite her lip to stop herself from yelping. "Say goodbye to your warlock days, Bane." Jace grinned as he straightened up.

"Though I'm not really a Bane, am I?" Clary said contemplatively. "I'm supposed to be a Morgenstern."

"You've hardly ever known your biological father though," Jace countered. "and Magnus has been your father for almost your entire life. I think Bane deserves the privilege, not the family name of some maniac who experiments on his own children."

"I bet the Clave will be thrilled to have a Shadowhunter with a warlock name in their ranks," she muttered. She loved her name, of course, but she could already hear the scorns of the more idiotic Shadowhunters. They would insult the name Bane, and therefore insult Magnus, which was a thought that Clary could not bear.

"How do you like the sound of Clary Herondale, then?" Jace asked, batting his eyelashes ridiculously.

"God, that sounds horrible," Clary shuddered, and then laughed when Jace pulled on a hurt expression. She shoved him away light-heartedly.

"We're preparing for a battle that might lead to our deaths, and you guys are planning a marriage?" Isabelle arrived with the gear she had found after rummaging through the whole house. It seemed to be ceremonial gear, with silver buttons engraved with the Lightwood family crest, and one of the more old-fashioned styles. Isabelle claimed that it was still functional. Though Clary was a little suspicious, she had no other choice.

Since she had too little experience with Shadowhunter gears, Jace had to help her with the straps of her arm guard, and tie up her sleeves so her arm was exposed for emergency Marks. Clary slipped Heosphoros into the straps of her thigh guard. She stuffed some extra weapons and a stele into her belt, and stood up. It felt weird to be fully dressed as a Nephilim, when she had hidden from them for such a long time.

"You look like one of us now," Isabelle announced when Clary and Jace entered the drawing room.

"She _is_ one of us," Alec reminded her. He flashed her a quick grin that Clary returned. Alec no longer beheld her in a sceptical leer. Instead, his eyes were smiling as though he was regarding an old friend. Alec seemed to be one of the people who are hard to approach, but completely open their hearts when they deemed a person worthy of their friendship.

They continued to talk about ordinary things, like Isabelle's latest crush on a vampire or Alec's enormous stash of worn sweaters. Clary found herself laughing at one of Jace's jokes that made Alec splutter. It felt as if it were a typical weekend in the Institute, chatting in the dining halls over plates of mushu pork. Then Clary realized that they were trying hard to keep their minds off what they were about to run into.

Clary gazed at the sky beyond the large windows. Without the bright glows of the demon towers, the illumination from the outside was considerably weaker. The others followed her gaze and looked up into the skies. The moon was creeping up, and they knew they could put it off for no longer. The time had come.

Clary shook Magnus awake. He blinked his sleepy eyes and slowly got up. His well-earned rest seemed to have revitalized him; the shadows of weariness below his eyes had vanished. He grinned at Clary in his toothy, Cheshire cat grin to reassure her that he felt absolutely fine. She was not convinced, but she knew better than to attempt to leave him behind.

Clary drew her stele, and began to carve the rune for a Portal into the ivory wall of the manor. The rune flared in bright gold before twisting into the rectangular shape of a Portal. The banks of Lake Lyn came into view. Clary hesitated, wondering if she were bringing her friends to their demise. Then Jace wrapped her hand in his, encouraging her without words.

"We're ready," Alec called out. There was strength in his words that convinced Clary that they had to do this.

She took a deep breath, and walked into the cold ripples of the Portal. The time had come for the vengeance.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Sorry it's a bit shorter. I had to cut it off there, or it would get too long.

I'm so excited these days, because I receive so many alerts of new followers and faves! :D Thank you all for taking interest in my story.

I'm glad, taughttodream, that you enjoyed the dictionary part :) I was playing with the idea for a while until I finally decided to put it in.

Everyone, feel welcome to give my feedback, either by the reviews or by PM! Thanks again, and I love you all!


	20. Chapter 20

The waters of Lake Lyn were black, as though they were replaced by oil. Clary stood in the shadows of the woods, surveying the banks of the lake. The rocks, worn smooth by the years of the lake's water lapping at its surface, had been sprayed with the sluggish liquid. She could make out the silhouette of a figure, kneeling by the tainted lake. Even without vampire supervision, she knew who it was. Jace was right—Valentine had come to Lake Lyn to finish his plans.

"What do we do?" Clary hissed. Magnus squinted at the figure and frowned.

"I don't see a pentagram," he whispered to the others.

A rustle above her startled Clary. She muffled her gasp with her hand as she tilted her head upward, sword gripped tight in her other hand. She scowled with annoyance when she realized it was only Jace grinning down at her from the tree. He expertly pulled himself onto a bough, balancing with ease. He took out a stele to draw a Vision rune on his inner arm.

"I don't see Seb—Jonathan. Valentine is there, and he's drawing some runes into the ground I can't recognize," Jace said. Clary winced; he wasn't lowering his voice enough, and she didn't like the sound of a missing Jonathan.

"Those are probably the ones that strip Alicante of its power," Magnus said with a grimace. "We need to stop him before he completes it. Do you see anything that might protect him?"

"Yep," Jace said as he dropped to the ground. "right over there."

He whipped out a dagger and thrust it at the branches of a nearby tree. It swept through the leaves as a shadow dropped to the ground. Before Clary could react, there was a flash of silver and an arrow shot through the darkness. Jonathan laughed, and he was standing several feet away from where the arrow was buried, quivering.

"How lovely," Jonathan smirked. He was stunningly white in the darkness—with his silver hair and pale face, he looked as if a spotlight was shining on him. "It's a party."

His words signalled an explosion of movement. His leap was graceful, like a predator launching itself at prey. Starlight danced off his blade as he swung it down, his dark eyes locked on Clary's. She barely managed to hold up her sword fast enough to block him. The impact sent a shock down her arm, but she held her ground. A dangerous glimmer caught her eye, and Jonathan sprung from the earth with a harsh snort of laughter. Isabelle's whip slapped against the empty ground, and Jonathan was eyeing the group from the bough Jace had been standing on.

He thrust himself at Jace before Alec's arrow could spear him. The sharp sound of metal against metal rang through the woods, but another sound caught Clary's attention: Magnus's short laughter of triumph. Jonathan snarled as a web of blue light pinned him against the tree. His sword arm was free, though, and he lashed it at Magnus. Alec pulled Magnus out of harm's way, but he was a second too late. The sword cut a long gash in his torso, and by the blood smeared on the obsidian blade, Clary knew it was deep.

"Magnus!" Clary yelled, but Magnus shook his head impatiently.

"I'm fine," he growled. "Go with Jace, stop Valentine before it's too late!"

Jonathan's sword caught the web, and one by one, the strings snapped. Isabelle's whip caught his sword and pulled it out of his grip, but he had sliced through enough of the magic. With his other hand free, he tore the web apart. He lunged at Clary, but Alec's arrow got in the way.

"What are you waiting for?" Alec shouted as he threw his bow away and unsheathed his sword. Jace caught her hand and wrenched her away from the battle. She couldn't even spare a glance behind her shoulders—one wrong step, and Jace's speed would thrust her face-first to the nearest tree.

"What are you doing—we need to help—"

"We need to help stop Valentine. Clary, have a little faith in them, will you?" Jace's speed was increasing, and Clary had to run at full speed to keep up with him. "Alec and Izzy are one of the best Shadowhunters of our age, and Magnus is the High Warlock of Brooklyn."

"But Jonathan is _the_ best—"

"And there won't be many Shadowhunters to compare him to if Valentine succeeds!" Jace stopped abruptly, and Clary crashed into him. He grabbed her shoulders and bent to meet her eyes. "Listen, Clary, we're not running from danger. Valentine is as much a formidable foe as Jonathan is, and if anything, we're heading _into_ danger. We need to do this." Clary nodded, and his blazing eyes softened. "Come on. When we're finished with all this mess, I'll take you on the most romantic date in Shadowhunter history."

"I bet you say that to every girl you flirt with," she muttered. "What's the plan?"

"Valentine probably thinks we're all busy with Jonathan. I can see him from here," he glanced at the figure by the lake. He was still kneeling, and Clary could now see that he had a stele in his hand. "and I can catch him by surprise. Can you deactivate the runes?"

The glow of a rune, shaped with curves overlapping each other in a flower-like shape, lingered at the edge of Clary's consciousness. "Yes, I think I can."

"Thinking you can is not enough. Believe in yourself." Jace scrawled some battle runes on his arm before handing it to Clary. "Use this. For good luck."

"I won't be believing in myself if I used your stele for _good luck_ ," she scowled.

"Fair point, that," he said with his blinding grin. He stuck it into his belt. "Take your stele out."

"Jace—" Before she could stop him, he kicked the ground, soaring into the air like a falcon. He brought his sword down in an arch, but Valentine rolled away with Shadowhunter grace before it could strike him. Clary swore, and raced after Jace.

"Jace," Valentine smiled, and his eyes swept to Clary. "and Clarissa, as well. All your other friends must be with your brother."

"Don't worry, you'll be with him on your way to hell." Jace swung his sword forward, but without the element of surprise, he had lost his advantage. Valentine had much more battle experience; however, though it would have given him the upper hand, Jace's inhuman speed made up for his lack of real-life combat with another Shadowhunter.

Valentine parried Jace's blow with his own sword—an elongated version of Heosphoros. Jaws set, Jace swerved to the side to jab at him, but Valentine's blade was already there to deflect it. The blades sang as they clashed against each other, and Clary couldn't help but think it was like a beautiful, deadly dance. She didn't stand there to observe—she threw herself to the black stones where the runes were carved.

Even with Clary's ability with runes, the ones Valentine used were unreadable. Unlike the Angel's runes, these were sharp, ugly, and radiated an aura of sickening darkness. Merely touching the runes seemed to suck the strength out of her. Ignoring her instincts that screamed at her to run away, Clary slammed her stele down into the stone, over the inscriptions Valentine had carved. Her veins thrummed with the power she was channelling into the stele, and gold sparks flew from the rod of _adamas_ as the rune came into being.

Then Clary noticed that the singing of the blades had stopped. Her fingers were on the final stroke, but a kick caught her full in the chest, sending her skidding across the stones. Clary gasped for breath, willing her lungs to expand. Valentine wrested her stele from her grasp, and immobilized her with a Mark. Clary helplessly searched for Jace, and bit back a scream. Valentine's sword punctured his shoulder, pinning him to the ground. His eyes were closed and his face lolled to the side.

Valentine was not uninjured. He was limping, and an arm was wrapped over his abdomen as if to force his guts inside. His gear was damp with blood. He dragged himself to the water, and crowed with sickening mirth. His frenzied eyes held a dangerous light, and his face was twisted with insanity. He tilted his head backwards as his body rocked with laughter.

"Watch, Clarissa, as I finally put the end to the Incursion, and become the ultimate hero to mankind!" His voice was ragged when he snapped his head to Clary, his lips stretched into a grin. She saw her chance and used the magic of her ring to devour him with flames. With an annoyed grunt, he smothered the fire with his hands as though it was nothing more than candlelight.

"Kill me," she growled through gritted teeth.

"And achieve what?" Valentine smirked. "Watch, my daughter, as I summon Lilith from her domain in Edom, and call her forth to her doom!" He began to chant in Chthonian, the words resembling bestial howls more than a human language. Clary watched with horror as the darkened waters of the sacred lake parted, and a horde of demons shot into the sky.

The demons were like nothing Clary had ever encountered. Beasts with insectile wings held other, wingless creatures in ebony talons or writhing tentacles that ended in stings that dripped venom. Giant maggots with mouths filled with jagged fangs, demons shaped like pterodactyls with the face of spiders, monstrous, buzzing hornets with three heads and prolonged stingers—all rushed towards the Glass City, blotting out the night sky. Clary's heart sank; there was no way the Nephilim would be able to fight against such an army.

"You said you wanted to stop the Incursion, and you're opening the gates to this world even further? Nice job," she shouted in a scathing tone. Her voice was lost in the cacophony of guttural cries and snarls from the demons above. The final wave of demons had passed, and the lake was now a dark abyss, a tear in the dimension open to all infernal creatures.

Valentine's chanting had not stopped. Clary felt a rush of hot wind, and stared with horror as an invisible hand drew lines of crackling fire in the midst of the abyss. The lines joined to become a blazing pentagram, pulsing with immense power. The runes below her began to glow in an eerie crimson. A deafening groan filled the air, as if two worlds were grinding against each other. Valentine's mouth was still moving fervently.

The flames of the pentagram rose, and a shadowy figure began to materialize from its blaze. The grinding noise had ended, replaced with a suffocating silence. Clary fought against the binding runes to no avail. Almost inevitably, her eyes flew to Jace, who was bleeding to death. Clary thought she saw his finger twitch, and she was praying to Raziel, to give Jace strength—

And the flames of the pentagram had turned an azure blue. A familiar snap of fingers released Clary from her immobility, and she scrambled up to meet the green-gold eyes of her favourite warlock. Behind him, Alec and Isabelle gave her a reassuring smile. They were all torn and bloody—far too bloody for her liking—but they were alive, and victorious.

"What have you done?" Valentine's words were a torturous shriek. " _What have you done, half-breed?_ "

"Simple," Magnus replied with a tired but mischievous Cheshire cat grin. "I turned your spell upside down. Lilith is meeting you in Edom, I'm afraid."

A giant, flaming fist rose from the pentagram, and grabbed a screaming Valentine, dragging him into its crown of inferno. He was swallowed by an explosion of hellfire, which was extinguished by the rush of the clear, purified waters of Lake Lyn. The crashing wave settled down to peaceful sloshes as it approached them, as if nothing had occurred that night.

Clary bounded into Magnus's outstretched arms, holding him in a tight embrace. "Alright, alright," he murmured gently. "easy there, biscuit. This is an expensive suit. A classic, really." Clary sniffled as she pulled away. Magnus's beam was no longer a threatening, menacing grin as he admonished, "Move it, Clary. I need to tend to Jace."

Magnus padded toward the bleeding boy and knelt by him. Alec had a hand on Jace's parabatai rune, his expression tight, muttering that everything was okay. Isabelle viciously pulled the blade from his shoulder, inducing a gush of blood. Magnus ran his fingers over the wound, nodding with satisfaction as the wound knit together. He snapped his fingers in Jace's face, showering him with blue glitter that faded even as they fell. Jace woke up with a jolt.

"What—Clary—"

"It's okay. We killed Jonathan and Valentine. It's over." Alec explained. Jace slowly blinked, as if trying to process the situation, then glanced at Magnus.

"Magnus, why are you… blurry?" At Jace's words, everyone turned to him. Magnus was, as Jace had remarked, blurry. The tips of the warlock were fading into wisps of smoke, as though he were a painting on which someone had spilled water. Magnus's grin was strained.

"Reversing Valentine's spell to send him to Edom is no task a warlock can accomplish alone," he admitted. His eyes flitted to Clary's shocked green ones. "My father reigns over Edom as well. When Valentine opened the passage enough for me to… converse with him, he offered a deal. He would overturn Valentine's spell, but I'd be pulled in with him."

"No!" The scream tore out from her throat as reality crashed down on her. Clary pounced on him, pulling him into a fierce embrace. "No, you can't go, no. _No_ …" She buried her face in Magnus's chest, sobs bursting from her lungs.

"Clary, look at me. _Clary_." Magnus pushed her away from him, so he could take in her tear-stained face. "Let me see your face." His faded hands stroked her wet cheeks, the feeling of them as soft as smoke on her skin. The others fell silent, and even the stars seemed to hold their breath.

"I won't let you go," she mumbled stubbornly through her tears. "You can't go. You can't leave me." Her fingers were clenched on the hem of his ruined dress shirt. "Dad, don't leave me. I don't want to be alone."

"You're not alone, biscuit. You've got friends." A glimmer of light flickered between them. Magnus held his hands in front of him and watched as lights danced off his fading fingers into the air like fireflies. "I need you to look at me. Can you do that for me?"

Clary wiped her eyes with her sleeve. Magnus's eyes held an immense sorrow that she couldn't begin to fathom. He wrapped her hands in his, though they were as insubstantial as fog. Clary swallowed another sob, holding them down to listen to her father's next words.

"I'm going to cast one last spell. I've been holding on with the remains of my magic, but once I cast this spell, I'll fade away immediately. And I need your help with it." His voice was quiet and solemn, but it was lined with the hint of anguish. Clary nodded, trying her best to ignore the flickers of light that shimmered as they faded into the night air.

Magnus began to whisper in a voice so low that even Clary had difficulty making out the words. When she finally recognized his spell, it was far too late.

"No, don't do this to me!" Clary felt a giant tide sweep over her memories, erasing everything she had with Magnus. Desperate, she scrabbled at the dirt, writing Magnus's name, but he erased it with a swipe of his hand. The flickers of light streamed from his quickly fading body, disappearing into the darkness. Clary could hear her own voice in the depths of her evanescing memories.

 _It's a complex memory magic that makes the person forget a subject even as he sees or hears or senses it, or even mentions of it._ She gritted her teeth, branding the image of Magnus, sitting in front of her with a pained smile, into her memory. She would not forget him, she would never let herself forget him—

"You're my whole life, and all my heart."

Magnus embraced her, but she could no longer feel his warmth. A heartbeat later, Magnus was nothing but a myriad of warm glows, scattering and fading even as Clary reached to grab them. The earth holding her seemed to falter, and she barely heard her friends' voices as she gratefully fell into the caress of unconsciousness.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Sorry I'm late :( I couldn't triple-check this chapter, so there may be errors.

For Magnus's fading scene, I consulted a scene in a Korean TV series called Goblin because I lack imagination :/ You can see the scene if you search 'Goblin dying scene' on Youtube.  
If you have the time, I suggest listening to 'Kim Kyung-hee - And I'm here' while re-reading that part. Don't worry, the lyrics are in English :)

One more *important* thing: The next chapter will have a Clace dating scene, and I'm open to suggestions. Where do you want Clace to go, and what do you want them to do? Feel free to give me anything by the reviews and PMs!

Thank you all for following and fave-ing me, and for leaving reviews! I love you all :D


	21. Chapter 21

New York was as peaceful as such a bustling city could possibly be. The mundanes lived on their busy lives, blissfully unaware of the recent terrible events and the might-have-beens. Jace watched as a boy scurried after a ball and managed a small smile.

"You've murdered my closest acquaintance and now you're smiling. No wonder I despise you Shadowhunter scum." Jace turned to greet the scowling green warlock.

"I didn't kill Magnus," he replied. The warlock appraised the boy with his dark, humourless eyes. "besides, I'm here to discuss how to save him."

"Which is the only reason I bothered to answer your message." Ragnor raked his fingers through his white hair. "How is Clary?"

"It would be better if you saw for yourself," he said with a grimace. Jace heaved himself from the wall he was leaning on and put a hand on the gates to the Institute. It swung open at his touch. The pair entered the cathedral and waited in silence for the gilded elevator to arrive. Jace wasn't surprised to see that it was already occupied by the redhead when its doors opened.

"Clary, I told you to stay in your room. You're not well enough," Jace admonished, but it was hard to keep the affection out of his voice.

"I had to come. I saw Peapod out the window. Plus, I'm perfectly healthy. You're just being overprotective." Clary stuck a tongue out at him and beamed at Ragnor. "What brings you here, Ragnor? You never had patience with the Nephilim."

"If I knew better, I'd steal you away from them, too," the warlock admitted. "I came here to discuss the rescue of a certain warlock."

"A warlock? Is it Catarina? What's wrong?" She completely overlooked the fact that she had witnessed Magnus's abduction, just as she had done ever since she recovered from their battle with Valentine.

"No, it's Magnus."

At his words, Clary's worried face turned abruptly blank, erased of any sign of recognition. It was like the trick parents showed babies to make them laugh—as if someone had waved a hand in her face to alter her expression. Except this wasn't a stupid game for infants but real magic at work. Then a flicker of emotion glimmered in her eyes as her lips curved into a delighted smile.

"Oh, right, Alec ordered pizza. Izzy was trying to make spaghetti." She turned to Jace and put her hands on her hips triumphantly. "And he ordered _Hawaiian_ pizza."

"Dear Lord, I'll be miserably picking pineapples out of my dinner," he said glumly. He ushered Clary into the elevator, shooting Ragnor a meaningful glance. Ragnor looked thoughtful as he followed them in.

"By the way, Izzy wants me to back her in a mission tonight. Minor demonic activity, nothing too dangerous," she added when she saw Jace's disapproving frown.

"Isabelle is crazy, and has a twisted definition on _nothing too dangerous_. You should know better."

"Well, then, it's a shame I've already agreed to go." Clary flashed a mischievous smile that resembled Magnus's grin so much that it gave Jace a pang of guilt. She echoed Magnus's behaviour in ways that made him wonder whether she inherited any trait from Valentine at all. "I'll be in the training room if you need me!" She waved at Ragnor before stepping out of the elevator and disappearing into the corridors of the Institute.

"That's what happens when anyone mentions Magnus," Jace said. He led the warlock to the strategy room. "Can you lift the spell?"

"No. Memory magic is too delicate. One wrong move and it may damage her beyond repair." Jace bit back the urge to snap at the warlock's indifference. Ragnor sat on a chair and clapped once. A pile of paper materialized on the desk. "I've been looking for information on Edom. Those are everything I've found."

"Have you found anything that might help us?" Jace slumped on a chair opposite of the warlock, warily eyeing the pile.

"Only if you're willing to risk your life," he replied in a flat voice. A single map pulled itself from the heap. It drifted into the air, hovering at eye level in front of Jace. He plucked it gingerly, observing the sketch of an unfamiliar world.

"What's this? A map of Edom?"

"No, it's the closest thing to a map of Faerie. The thing is, according to the map, there is a path to Edom in the Land under the Hill." Ragnor folded his arms and leaned back, observing the Shadowhunter with his chin held up. "But are you willing to put your life at stake for a warlock, Nephilim?"

"That, and more." His forehead creased as his grip on the map tightened, crumpling the paper. It wasn't the first time he had thought of charging into Hell. The only difference was that he actually had a way in now. "I need to meet the Seelie Queen."

"I know a faerie of the Court," Ragnor said. "I can relay the message for you."

"Thank you, Ragnor." Jace paused, looking up to study the warlock. He was making an odd expression, as though he did not know whether to smile or scowl. "Were you at the battle in Alicante that night?"

"Yes, I was. They do say that it takes a Downworlder to clean a Shadowhunter mess." His chair scraped against the wooden boards as he got up.

"Yes, they do," Jace said with a mirthless laugh. He remembered Clary saying the same thing in the Accords Hall, her lips curled despite the chaotic situation. Even though he had been terrified for their lives at the moment, thinking of it gave him an odd sense of peace. The peril had been thrust onto them back then; now, he was about to prance into one of the most dangerous dimensions in existence. "How should I arrange your payment?"

"You've already paid," the warlock said, peering over his shoulder before he opened the door. "You're the first Shadowhunter to thank me for my help in decades."

Jace froze as the words sank in. He moved to stop the warlock, but he had already disappeared through the door. He sank back into his chair and drew the pile of paper closer. All the information was neatly organized in the warlock's careful script, with even sketches and diagrams to assist comprehension. Then it struck him that Ragnor had been a teacher at the Shadowhunter Academy for years before it was shut down, and how some of the older Shadowhunters described him as _a_ _grumpy but excellent teacher_.

Jace was studying the map when a flicker of light caught his eyes. With a wisp of smoke, a parchment fluttered to the desk. _Take the path of the moon and wait. Meliorn will guide you from there._ Jace heaved a sigh and folded the parchment. Maybe some people didn't deserve the help they took for granted.

* * *

The reflection of the moon was eerily bright, as though the moon itself was trapped in the waters of Turtle Pond. Jace trudged through the mud and stopped at the edge of the water, examining its rippling surface. Water licked the tips of his boots, which were already caked with mud. Then he took a step into the water, shivering slightly at the cold.

He waded through the water until his ears caught the sound of someone else in the water. He whirled, a seraph blade ready in his hand, but instead of invoking the name of an angel, he called a different name.

"Clary," he heaved a sigh. "For the love of the Angel, what are you doing here?"

Clary shrugged. "We were on our way to the Institute, but we saw you in the water."

"We?" Jace cast his eyes to the wooden gazebo, where Isabelle waved at him. Jace grit his teeth and turned to Clary. "This is a personal mission. I don't want anyone with me. Even you, Clary."

"Too bad, you're stuck with us." Isabelle dived into the pond, spraying Jace with water.

He stared at the two, aghast. "Nothing's going to stop you from following me, is it?"

"Nope," the girls said in unison. Then Isabelle grinned. "Nothing at all."

Jace shook his head, giving them the evil eye before wading closer to the reflection of the moon. He wanted to wrestle them to the ground to stop them, but keeping the Seelie Queen waiting seemed like an even worse idea. He stepped backwards into the silver circle gleaming in the water, and shut his eyes as he let his body fall. He opened them when his feet landed on the leafy carpet of the road to the Seelie Court.

"Wow, I've missed this place," Clary said as she landed beside him with a thump. She was dripping wet, and the tips of her red hair was damp. Jace took a lock in his fingers and twirled it around his finger absentmindedly. "Are we meeting the Seelie Queen?"

"I am. You're not." Jace fixed them with a glare.

"Yes, we are," Isabelle insisted as she wrung the water from her shirt. "I haven't had this much fun since Valentine."

"I'm afraid the Queen has strictly requested the audience of the boy only." A voice like the sound of a running stream came from behind them. A faerie knight with a leaf tattooed on each side of his cheeks watched them from a branch of a gnarled tree. "But you are welcome to visit the training grounds with your friend, Clary."

"Meliorn!" Clary beamed at the faerie. He fell gracefully to the ground, letting the redhead pull him into a fierce hug. Jace felt a flare of jealousy in his chest, but he merely watched with his arms around himself. She broke away from the embrace and winked at Jace. "Holler when you need me!"

Jace watched as the redhead took Isabelle by the hand and sauntered into the depths of Faerie. "Are you the knight who trained her?"

The faerie regarded him with impassive eyes. "That I am, among others, too. Come along, Nephilim. The Queen does not like to wait."

The leaves crackled under their feet as the two treaded through the corridor lined with closely packed trees that formed a tunnel. From the corner of his eyes, the trees appeared to move their twigs like limbs, but when he turned, they stood still. Lamps holding will-o'-the-wisps hung on their branches, illuminating the path with an uncanny glow.

They finally reached a veil of fluttering, live butterflies held in silver gossamer strings. Feeling queasy, Jace ducked under them to enter the Queen's chambers. It was a room made of knotted vines, knitted tightly together so not a trickle of light could enter. Luminous butterflies flitted around a tree that was twisted and contorted into the shape of a throne.

In the throne sat the Queen, her fiery hair billowing around her as though she were in the centre of a tempest. Her blue eyes held the iciness of glaciers as she glanced down at Jace from her seat. Her countenance held both the ageless beauty of angels and the cold cruelty of demons. The sight of her sent a chill down his spine.

"Child of the Nephilim, you are brave to have come here, after the slaughter of my people by one of your own kind." The Queen's voice rang through the chamber. Jace did not flinch, despite the accusation in her tone; instead, he met her frigid gaze with steady eyes.

"I give my deepest condolences and gratitude for those who have fought with us and fell in the battle, my lady," he said, every word cautious. "For them, I have fought hard to slay the man behind the crime."

"But you failed."

"Most regrettably, I have. A warlock succeeded in where I had failed, and for him I have come asking for your aid." The Queen did not move, clearly waiting for him to go on. Jace inhaled deeply before he spoke. "The warlock Magnus Bane was taken to the depths of Edom by the demon who rules there. As I understand, a path leading to the dimension exists in Faerie. I dare ask for your permission to take the path."

"A Nephilim going to Edom for the son of a Prince of Hell," the Queen mused. "a great surprise indeed. However, it is not my permission you must seek."

Jace's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but he kept himself composed. "Whose permission would that be, my lady?"

"You are rescuing the warlock for the girl, are you not? It will only be fit that you ask her opinion first." There was a dark humour glimmering in her eyes.

"Do you mean Clary? But she is—"

"I am aware of the state of her memories," she said coolly. "it is your task to heal the gaps." She stood up from her throne. Though her stature was small, her presence was towering. "The child calls herself Bane, those of the Nephilim call her Morgenstern, but we of the Fair Folk call her by the name of Fairchild, one she inherits from her mother. Is it not an apt name?" Not waiting for an answer, she continued. "She is as much a child of the Fair Folk as she is of the warlock, for we have trained her and taken care of her as one of our own. I will not grant you what she may not want."

She was asking the impossible. Hiding his rigid expression with a quick bow, he excused himself from the chamber and exited through the veil of fluttering butterflies. His hands were clenched into fists as he stalked through the corridor. He followed the map he had memorized, hoping it was accurate enough. Then someone ran straight into him from behind, holding him in the circle of her arms.

"Clary?" Jace twisted his neck to see the girl. She giggled and buried her face into his back. Her gear was still soggy, but her caress was warm.

"Meliorn told me you left the Queen's chamber. You probably don't know the way, so I came here." He gently detached her and fondly ruffled her hair. "Meliorn took Izzy back to New York. I know this hill in Faerie that has the best view. It's perfect for _the most romantic date in Shadowhunter history._ " Clary looked up from her curling lashes, ridiculously mimicking his voice.

Jace laughed. The clench in his heart relaxed as he drank in the sight of her with his eyes. "That sounds great. Let's go."

For the moment, Jace let his worries melt away. All that existed in the pocket of his own universe was the small redhead beside him, who was looking up at him as if he was the only star to brighten the darkness around them. He entwined his fingers with hers, holding her hand firmly in his. She was the anchor to his world, and he vowed to do anything to make her happy.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Wow, thanks for the reviews for the previous chapter :) I loved reading them as much as reading Cassie's stories :D All your compliments keep me going. Thank you so much! I love you all :3


	22. Chapter 22

The night sky was bright pink—not the mellow pink of the evening sky in the mundane world, but a bright pink similar to that of a grapefruit. The clouds were dark, almost black, against the bright, multi-coloured starlight of the Faerie sky. A stream parted around a low, slanting hill with crisp gold grass and delicate silver-white flowers he had never seen before.

Jace braced himself to leap over the stream, but Clary shook her head with a slight smile on her lips. She stepped _on_ the water, her footsteps firm on the surface of the stream. Sucking in a breath, Jace followed her. The water beneath him felt like jelly—moving under his feet but fully supporting his weight. The grass crunched as he climbed the hill, heels digging into the earth. The red-head beckoned for him to sit by her side. He crouched beside her, watching the footprints disappear as the flattened grass slowly recovered.

"I've always loved this place," Clary said. She lay down on her back, casting her eyes to the glimmering stars above. "It's so peaceful."

"It reminds me of the greenhouse back at the Institute," Jace murmured as he leaned back, his upper body twisted to face Clary. They were close enough for him to feel the warmth of her presence. She looked so unreachable, as though her soul was already dancing among the stars.

"That's why I took you here. You invited me to your haven, so I've invited you to mine." She paused, turning her face to meet Jace's eyes. "I'm sorry your dictionary's ruined. My memory's fuzzy, but I do remember that."

"I can make you another one," he smiled. He sat up, sweeping his curly hair from his eyes before pulling the Herondale ring from his finger. The ring had been there for as long as he could remember, and its absence gave him a sense of emptiness when he pulled it off. "Clary, I want you to have this." Clary used her elbows to push herself up into a sitting position, peering at the band of silver in his hand.

Jace held his breath as he gently picked her hand from the grass, his eyes gauging Clary's expression. Her eyes were unreadable, but she wasn't pushing him away, either. There was never another moment when he wanted to slip into her head more than now. Her fingers were slim and calloused, and they were all the more beautiful for it. He pulled her hand to his lips, brushing them lightly against her fingers before sliding the ring onto her fourth. The ring immediately adjusted its size to fit her.

"It's a Herondale ring." His words were barely audible under the soft rustle of the grass as a breeze swept around them. "Remember when I asked you how you liked the sound of Clary Herondale?"

"I said it sounded horrible," she laughed quietly. She didn't pull her hand away from his, but merely studied him in her curious green gaze.

"Do you still think so?" Jace could feel his heartbeat quicken its pace and his blood rush through his veins. He had heard that time flowed strangely in Faerie, but the way the silent second seemed to stretch infinitely was almost unbearable. He felt his teeth dig into the soft skin of his lower lip, an action he had never done before.

Incredibly, the little red-head leaned in closer to press her warm lips to his, allowing them to rest there for a heartbeat before breaking away. "No, I think it sounds rather melodic. Dulcet, even."

Jace exhaled, his eyes widening incredulously. He stroked her face with the tip of his fingers wonderingly, opening then closing his mouth, struggling to find words. His heart was bursting with jumbled emotions he couldn't recognize. It was as if the brightest star, its intense light rendering even Faerie's starlight dim, had fluttered to the earth before him. The universe's most precious, sacred star.

 _"_ _Raziel,"_ he finally breathed. "I really do love you."

"I hope so, because otherwise this would be really awkward." She bent to kiss him again, and it felt like the explosion of a supernova—blazing, intense, and blinding. He cupped her cheeks with his hands, his touch tender. Her eyes were half-lidded, her curling eyelashes casting shadows. Her eyes were as green as spring and life and love, and he was falling in love again, stuck in place by the immobilizing emotion.

Jace pulled away, his lips curled into a grin. "I don't want to spend all my kisses in one place. You're too precious for that."

"Har har," she muttered, shooting a withering glance at his sly smile. "What were you doing with the Queen, anyway?"

"Impressing her with my innate charms, mostly," he replied. "But also asking for a little favour."

"What is it? I can help you persuade her," suggested Clary.

Jace shook his head. "There's something we have to do first. I'll have to meet with Ragnor again."

They sat in silence, his hand over hers, relaxing in each other's touch. Then Clary pointed at the edge of the long stretch of trees far away. "Look, there." Fog as thick as clouds rolled into the forest like a giant tide, swallowing the trees into its misty depths. Jace watched with awe as the fog swept over the entire forest. "That means we should probably go. It's close to dawn."

"It barely felt like a few hours though," he frowned.

"That's Faerie time for you," she smirked. She pulled a crystal shard from her pocket and pressed it between her fingers. It shattered into a shower of glittering silver powder, which swirled into the sky before raining down on the two. Jace sneezed, then stiffened in alarm when he felt his body slip from the hill. He reached for Clary as they fell into a dizzying void. Just has his hands clamped around her wrist, his feet slammed onto the concrete ground.

"I could use a little warning, you know," Jace leered at the grinning red-head.

"Hey, I got you to the Institute in no time." The gates to the Institute recognized Clary's touch and swung open easily. "You should be thanking me." With a sideways smile, she pulled a grumbling Jace into the Institute. A flash of silver caught his eyes, and his lips curved involuntarily at the sight. Clary had accepted the ring.

* * *

"Not you again." The green warlock scowled at the visitor by his doorsteps. The golden-eyed boy grinned before he ducked under the warlock's barring arms to enter the loft. Ragnor had been occupying Magnus's apartment for quite some time since the war, during which he had successfully made it his home. The flashy, flamboyant furniture were replaced by more homey antiques.

"The Seelie Queen said that she won't send me to Edom unless I get Clary's approval of the mission," he confided. He slumped onto a leather sofa, ignoring the warlocks' annoyed sigh. "I need her to remember every memory she has lost. Is there any way to break Magnus's spell?"

The warlock sipped tea from a porcelain cup. "In fact, there is. I was about to send you a fire-message," he said. He observed the boy with measuring, dark eyes. "Clary's subconscious mind prevents her conscious one from recalling her mad father. I have found information on a certain Greater Demon of dreams that may be able to relieve her subconscious mind from the spell."

"Is it Magnus's father? The one who took him?"

Ragnor barked a short, humourless laugh. "No, and you're lucky it's not him." He closed his eyes tiredly before slowly opening them. "His name is Epiales. The demon of nightmares."

"I've never heard of him," Jace grimaced. The mere mention of the name sent tingles down his spine.

"He hasn't been in this dimension for centuries. It's taken me ages to find the necessary records." Ragnor peered into the rim of his cup with a worried frown. "This is not a garden-variety demon where the biggest danger is a stinger or talons. This is an ancient evil not to be meddled with. I will understand if you want me to search for a different method."

"No, I'll go with it," he said firmly. "How long will it take for you to get prepared?"

"No time at all," Ragnor sniffed and put down the cup on a table. "I've already made the preparations, because I know how impatient you idiot Nephilim can be. Come along, fool."

Jace followed the warlock into a room with all its furniture pushed away to the side. A black pentagram was painted on the floor, with black, foul-smelling candles laid around it, unlit. Ragnor snapped his fingers and the candlelight burst into existence, casting twisted shadows with unknown sources on the white walls. Ragnor muttered in a demon language Jace did not know, his voice echoing though the room was not big enough for it to bounce off the walls. The pentagram sucked in the fire from the candles, glowing in eldritch, azure flames. The flames rose high before dying down, revealing a tall figure dressed in a Victorian outfit.

The demon had dark blue hair that shimmered as he moved, as though stars were studded in his night-blue locks. It was elegantly tied in a ponytail, and a set of white horns protruded from his temples. His eyes were the most unsettling—the colours were reversed. His sclera was an inky black, and while his irises were a burning red, his pupils were piercingly white.

"Well, hello," the demon said pleasantly. "This was an unexpected call." He waved the tip of his serpentine tail in greeting.

"Epiales," Ragnor said in a flat voice. "we are in need of your assistance."

"Well, young warlock, then you must know that I do not give out assistance for free." With a placid smile, he looked down at Jace. "One of the Nephilim, I see. I enjoyed plunging your ancestors into the pits of nightmares and pulling them out with only half their minds intact. A real pity that one of them actually managed to dispatch me back into my own dimension."

"A real shame," Jace said dryly. His stomach twisted with nausea. Epiales emitted an aura of disease and insanity, more powerful than any demon he had ever encountered. However, he still kept his back straight and his face empty of emotion. He could not afford to be intimidated by the demon, for both his and Magnus's sake.

"What do you want, demon?" Ragnor asked, his voice calm. The demon's eyes flew from Ragnor to Jace as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Then a smile bloomed on his face, a smile that seemed to freeze Jace's insides.

"Oh, just a little bet. Greater Demons love a good bet, you see." Epiales licked his lips with a forked, purple tongue. His gaze fell to the gold-haired boy. "If your Nephilim manages to fight my nightmare and returns with his sanity, I will agree to help you. If not, his dreams are mine to devour. Fair?"

Ragnor opened his mouth with his eyebrows knitted in a frown, but Jace silenced him with a hand on his shoulder. "Deal."

"No!" Ragnor turned to Jace, his jaws set. "You underestimate the power of Greater Demons, boy. Don't be a fool."

"We don't have time, Ragnor," he replied. Jace took a step forward, toward the demon watching with an amused expression. "Magnus doesn't have time." Ragnor growled under his breath, but he didn't stop the boy.

"Let's shake hands on it, shall we?" Up close, Jace could see that the demon's teeth ended in sharp points like shark's teeth. The stench of sulphur and burnt tires was almost overpowering, but he held his ground. The demon held out a hand. Jace took a deep breath and took it, shuddering slightly at the icy touch.

His hands flew to his throat as he gasped for breath. His knees buckled and the strength fled from his limbs as black spots covered his field of vision. He was mercilessly dragged into the suffocating darkness, with only Epiales's malicious slice of a grin burned into his mind. Hundreds of bony hands grappled every inch of his skin, tearing at his flesh viciously. The nightmares had begun.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Sorry for the delay! :( I'm really busy these days, what with the summer break coming to a close and all.

I've been reading the reviews and I feel thrilled to see the compliments :D Thank you for your kind words. They keep me motivated.

I'm afraid I'll have to upload once a week from now on. I've got too much things to do :( sorry.

150 followers! Yay! and 97 Favs! I love you all!


	23. Chapter 23

Jace woke up, his throat dry and burning as if he'd swallowed a hot coal. He sat up and rubbed his temples with the tips of his fingers, trying to clear the fog that muddled his mind. A wet towel that he had not noticed slid from his forehead to his lap with a loud slop. Confused, he held it up. It felt cool and satisfying to the touch. He glanced at the green bucket filled with water on the ground beside his bed. He must have had a fever.

Tucking a damp lock of hair behind his ear, Jace gingerly got off the bed. He faltered as black spots invaded his sight, blinding him, and grabbed the table for balance. He stumbled over the bucket accidentally, causing it to topple over with a loud clatter. Jace silently cursed when the dizziness subsided and his vision returned to reveal the wet mess.

"Jace!" Alec broke into the room, his blue eyes wide. "God, you finally woke up."

"How long has it been?" he croaked, and winced at the pain in his throat. Alec, noticing his perturbation, thrust a cup of steaming liquid in Jace's hands.

"That's tisane. It was for Magnus, but…" Alec shrugged and crossed his arms. He appeared to have lost weight. His cheekbones were more prominent, and his eyes gaunt, as though he had been tortured. "It's been three weeks. They said you did fight off the nightmare, but it exhausted you so much that you couldn't find strength to wake up. Speaking of nightmares, what were you _thinking?_ "

"Magnus? Is Magnus back?" Jace sat on his bed and closed his eyes, fighting off the unsteadiness. He could feel Alec's worried eyes on him.

"Yeah, the demon kept his part of the deal and restored Clary's memories. Clary begged the Seelie Queen to let her save Magnus, so she arranged a party to rescue him. It's a long story." Alec sighed. Jace opened his eyes again, sniffing in the scent of the tea. The fogginess in his head seemed to subside a little. "Jace, what you did is the most stupid, reckless thing you've _ever_ done, and you've done a lot of reckless things. _It was a Greater Demon_." He spat each word in a deadly staccato.

"Funny," Jace wrinkled his nose as he sipped the herbal tea. It immediately soothed his throat. Ignoring its scorching heat, he took another big gulp. "I don't remember anything."

"Maybe it's like any other dream. You forget it as you wake up."

"And Clary? Is Clary alright?" Jace lowered his cup as longing for the redhead struck him like a meteor. The pain was almost physical.

"Yep, she'd been looking after you ever since she got back. She had been staying up for days, so I made her go to sleep half an hour ago." Alec paused before glaring at Jace, and continued in an acidic tone. " _Nice_ timing, by the way. Clary's going to murder me."

"And rightly she should. My lady love should stick by my side at all times." Jace stretched his stiff neck, grimacing slightly when his bones complained with a loud crack. "Go get Magnus another tisane. I'll go see Clary."

Jace bent down to pick up the yellow bucket when a strange feeling settled over him. It was the same bucket he had knocked over, but it felt strangely unfamiliar. He could have sworn it had been a different colour moments ago. He shook his head, trying to get a hold on himself. The nightmare must have taken a large toll on him. He glanced around for the towel but—what towel? Groaning internally, Jace left the mess and his room. He had a feeling that another minute spent there would drive him crazy.

Jace pressed his palm to Clary's door, anticipation building in his chest. Though he was unconscious during the three weeks, unable to tell the passing time, he had missed her dreadfully. After taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open. The room was dark, as though darkness had a substance and it had swallowed the entire room. Jace opened the door further, letting in more light, and stopped.

Jonathan, his lips crooked in a savage grin, stood in the darkness, just beside his sleeping sister. The boy swept a hand through his white hair and moved his attention to the sleeping girl, his black eyes filled with nauseating hunger.

"How are you alive?" Jace demanded. Clary stirred at his voice, but didn't wake up.

"They made a bargain with the lords of Edom, you see. Lilith rules in Edom, too, and she agreed to free the warlock if you gave her my corpse in return." He spread his arms beside him, and his grin widened. "She has revived me, and gave me strength. I am no longer as disposable as I had been."

"Then leave us alone and go rot in Hell," he said through gritted teeth. He was weaponless, defenseless against the fully geared boy. His eyes flew to Clary, blissfully unaware of the disaster before her, deep in sleep with her face buried into the pillow. He had to think of a way to at least save her, even if it meant falling into a slumber even he won't wake up from this time.

"Now, where's the fun in that?" He followed Jace's gaze to the sleeping redhead. His eyes softened infinitesimally, though they still held burning greed. "I have plans, and my sister shall be there beside me. I will annihilate the Nephilim with her by my side, and I will start with you."

"You will kill an unarmed person while being fully armed yourself? That doesn't sound like a person capable of annihilating the Nephilim. That sounds like a coward."

"Don't goad me, boy," he growled. "I have not come to kill. Not yet. I told you, I will start the destruction after I have my sister by my side. I've come to take her and… help her see sense."

"That's just another way of saying, 'I have come for a rather interesting method of suicide'." Clary's weapons laying on her bedside table caught his eye. He took a step forward, hoping Jonathan would think that he was just moving to shield Clary from his hands.

Jonathan sighed. "Very well. Getting caught wasn't one of my plans, anyway. I'll just have to get rid of you." He grabbed Clary's shortsword—Phaesphoros—and threw it to Jace. He easily snatched it from the air and weighed it in his hand. It was surprisingly light, but Jace doubted its chances against its longer counterpart that Jonathan wielded.

Before Jace could lunge, however, Clary sprang from her bed, a dagger in her hand. She swung her arm forward, ready to dig the blade into Jonathan's shoulder, but he dodged the attempt with ease. Jonathan tore the dagger from her grip and wrapped an arm around her neck to constrain her.

"Tsk, tsk," Jonathan clucked. "It would have been easier for you if you had continued pretending to sleep, sister mine." He glanced at Jace with dark humour in his eyes. "I'll have to postpone this battle. You can't fight me with Clary held hostage, nor can I properly kill you while holding my rather cumbersome sister."

Still holding Clary in a choking grip, Jonathan pulled her to the window. A sickening sense of déjà vu grappled Jace's insides as Jonathan's lips curled. He could not, would not, afford to be helpless this time. He pulled his sword-arm back then whipped it forward, and Phaesphoros sailed through the air and plunged into the wall, inches above Jonathan's head.

He laughed. "You missed."

"Not really." Jace met Clary's eyes and cast his eyes upward. A flash of realization brightened her eyes.

The moment Jonathan opened his mouth, Clary bent forward and kicked his knees, knocking him to the ground. She was pulled with him, but she caught the curtain before she hit the ground. The rip Phaesphoros made tore completely, enveloping the boy in a thick cloak of white. Clary rolled away just as the curtain fell. She quickly struck the curtain with her stele, scribbling a quick rune on the cloth. The curtain glowed, then firmly wrapped itself around the screaming boy like the linen bandages of a mummy.

It was only then that Jace realized the bloom of scarlet on the curtain was not Jonathan's blood. Clary coughed, and blood dribbled from her lips. The silver hilt of a dagger, the one she had attacked Jonathan with, protruded from her chest. She glanced down at it with surprised eyes, as though she were saying, _how did that get here?_

"Clary!" Jace lurched forward. He took the stele from her loose grip and scrawled an _iratze_ on her pale skin, but the Mark simply sank into her skin. "Raziel, no—"

"Jace," Clary whispered. Bloody foam rose to her lips.

"No, don't leave me, Clary. I can't live without you. You're all I have." He Marked another _iratze_ , but it was useless as before. Biting down a sob, he inked her skin again and again, but it only left white scars, remnants of his desperate yet futile attempts.

A shuddering breath escaped her lips, which, wet with blood, slowly moved. Jace leaned in closer to hear the word. "Together." Clary tried to pry the dagger from her chest. When he realized what she meant, Jace's heart skipped a beat. Clary finally managed to dislodge the blade. It clattered to the ground and a gush of blood cascaded from the wound.

Jace took the dagger from her trembling fingers. He would not let Clary go alone. Praying to Raziel, he held it to his heart, ready to push it in when Clary took her last breath. Then the same uneasiness he had felt when he had picked the bucket returned. Feeling strangely detached, he met Clary's half-lidded eyes.

They were black. As black as nightmares.

He scrambled away from her and snatched Phaesphoros from the wall. When he looked back at where Clary had been a heartbeat ago, there was nothing—not even a puddle of blood. Choking with relief, Jace knelt by the warmth of the vanished girl. He now had only one thing to do.

Jace tore off the curtain from the boy. He was grinning, baring his white teeth cruelly, his dark eyes full of glee.

"It's a nightmare, isn't it?" Jace growled. Jace held the sword to his throat, struggling to stop himself from pushing the blade in.

"Yes," he replied. "and the only way to end it is to kill me. Push it in. Let me bleed to death."

"You don't have to tempt me," Jace muttered.

His mind whirled. The illusion of Clary had tried to kill him. The demon had tried to kill him. Now he had suddenly given up, and was demanding Jace to kill the one threat that would most likely kill him. It was too easy. If the only way to break away from the nightmare was to murder Jonathan, all the demon had to do was make Jonathan too powerful for Jace to possibly beat him. Instead, the demon had trapped the boy and handed Jace a weapon.

It was a risk, but a risk Jace was willing to take. Jace pushed the blade of Phaesphoros into his own heart. Pain burst through his chest, through every vein and every cell. A scream tore its way through his mouth, and Jonathan's faint laughter pierced his ears like arrows. For a terrifying moment, his plan did not seem to work.

Then Jace opened his eyes, his throat parched and burning as though he had swallowed a burning coal. This time, he could see his green friend peering down at him with mild interest. No dizziness. Just a burning sense of reality.

"Drat," a bored voice came from behind him. "the boy wins the bet."

"How long has it been?" he croaked. Everything felt like a million years ago. He tried to sit up, but his elbows wouldn't take his weight. He gave up and rested his head on the ground.

"Three hours," Ragnore replied. His voice carried an air of disappointment. "I thought you would never wake up."

"Don't be too disappointed, Peapod," he groaned. "You should know I'm not that easy to get rid of."

"Call me Peapod again and I'll show you that you, in fact, are." The warlock scowled and put a hand to Jace's forehead. A green glow swept over his body and the pain faded. "I am going to charge you so much for this, boy."

"A word of gratitude won't be a sufficient payment this time, will it?" Jace sat up, feeling remarkably light. He shot a glance at the demon, who was filing his nails with a polished bone.

"Far from it." Ragnor sighed. "Call Clary. We have a memory spell to break."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

I haven't updated the Wattpad/AO3 version of Warlock's Child. Sorry, I'm simply too busy and I kind of feel tired of writing the same story all over again. I'm going to stop updating the renewed versions. Sorry about that :(

I'm working on a new story instead :) This one starts with Clary growing with Valentine, Sebastian with Jocelyn, and Clary and Jace meeting each other in secret when they were young until Jace is sent away after Valentine fakes his death. I think I'll start updating right after I finish the Warlock's Child.

Thank you all for following and fave-ing me! You all are what drives me on :3


	24. Chapter 24

Clary slowly lifted her eyelids, then squinted at the brightness of the sunlight falling into her eyes. She shifted her body to inch away from the patch of light, using her hand to shield her face. Every limb was stiff and aching, as though she had been racing all night. She rubbed her eyes and sat up, leaning against the headboard. Why was she in the infirmary? She frowned and placed her hands on either side of her, trying to make out what had happened.

Then reality crashed down on her like heavy rainfall, bits and pieces of her memory that she had been missing returning to her in a gush. She gritted her teeth and swung off the bed, ignoring the dizziness. She flung herself at the door, fumbling at the doorknob. She finally managed to pull it open, only to run into a bemused Jace.

"Clary," he said with wide eyes. "where are you going?"

"Magnus." Clary tried to push him away from the doorway, but Jace held fast.

"I know," he sighed. "but I need you to calm down. You've been through a lot, and you need rest."

"No, I don't." Despite her words, Clary relented and allowed Jace to guide her back to her bed. He looked tired; his eyes were bloodshot, and he carried a heavy air of fatigue. "I need Magnus."

"Remember how I visited the Seelie Queen?" Jace sat beside her and carefully laid his hand on hers. His warmth was something Clary had not realized that she needed. She allowed Jace to twine his fingers with hers. "There's a way to Edom through Faerie. The Queen required your permission for me to go there to rescue Magnus. So Ragnor and I had to try a rather unconventional approach to lift Magnus's memory spell."

"You're not going," she immediately said. She turned her head to glare at him. "This is my mission. I'm not going to put you in danger."

"Do you really think the Queen would allow that?" Clary bit her lip and stared at her laps. Jace's voice softened. "I know you're stubborn. I know you'll never let me leave without you. I know if I were in your place, I would rather die than stay in a safe place, unsure of whether the others are alive or not. I swear, I'll never leave you behind, and whatever happens, I'm going to return you safe and sound."

"The others are going too?"

"You don't know the Lightwoods if you think they're going to let us have an unbelievable adventure without them." Jace grinned fondly, though Clary could see the worry behind the smile. "There's no chance at all of you staying behind, is there?

"Nope." Clary studied his tired face, then abruptly pushed herself from the bed. Jace watched her curiously. "You seem to need the bed more than I do. What happened?"

"It's a long story," he said with a yawn. "I'm not too eager to go to sleep."

"Well, I'm not going to Edom with a sleep-deprived mummy." Jace shrugged at Clary's words and lowered his head onto the pillow.

"Mummies don't exist," he said, then paused. "at least the moving ones don't." He patted the space beside him and looked up at Clary with sleepy eyes. "I have nightmares. I have a gut feeling that they'll go away with you by my side."

Clary fixed him in a meaningful look, then sighed. "Nothing naughty, Herondale." She clambered onto the bed and lay her head on his outstretched arm. She studied him as he quietly laughed and shut his eyes. His breathing slowed as he quickly fell into a slumber.

He didn't let it on, but he must have gone through a lot to help her. He was so quick to sacrifice himself for her. Clary owed him too much, and it annoyed her that she had needed so much help, even if it was not her fault. She watched his eyes move under their lids restlessly. He rustled in his sleep, frowning and murmuring words she could not make out.

"Shhh. It's okay, Jace. Everything's fine," she whispered. She stroked his face soothingly until he relaxed. Free of the façade of arrogance and confidence, he looked like the boy who had just lost his parents and had died inside, believing that he was the one who had killed them.

She carefully slid out of the bed and padded out the room to return with her sketch pad and pencil. It had been so long since she had last used them. She sat on a chair by the bedside and began to trace the shape of the sleeping boy. The vague lines and curves slowly formed a delicate countenance with long, curling lashes. Each pencil stroke was made with utmost care. She was perfecting the shadows falling along his face when his eyes opened to reveal a set of dark gold eyes.

"How long have I slept?" he asked.

Clary glanced up at the clock and raised her eyebrows. She had concentrated on the sketching so much that she didn't realize the passing time. "It's half past eight."

Jace scrambled up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, sitting across Clary. "And I see you've been busy," he noted. He gestured towards the sketch pad. "May I have a look?" Clary half-reluctantly handed him the pad. To her, it was a diary, only in pictures rather than words. But she had drawn him without his permission, so she felt obliged to show him the result. Jace studied the black-and-white version of his sleeping self with impressed eyes. "Wow, you've got talent."

"I had a good teacher," she simply said.

Jace held the sketch pad in his hands, beholding the drawing with eyes shining with marvel. "Can I have it?" Clary hesitated, but soon nodded. Jace carefully tore the page out and stared at it for a long moment before neatly folding it and tucking it into his jacket's inner pocket. "I'm ready for Edom."

* * *

The Queen stared down at the Nephilim with her scrutinizing eyes. Even though Clary had known her for years, the Queen was not someone she could get familiar with. Her ageless appearance and the cruel glint in her eyes were what caused Clary to keep most faeries at an arm's length. One mistake, and you don't know how she'll punish you on behalf of her people.

"Your ring, Clary, is a Nephilim one."

At that unexpected observance, Clary's eyes widened. "Yes, your Majesty, it is." Her finger bearing the Herondale ring twitched a little; everyone's eyes were on it.

"So I take it that it is your wish to risk your life in order to rescue your warlock father, even though you know not whether he is alive or not?" She leaned back on her throne with a disapproving frown. "A fool you are, Fairchild." When Clary didn't reply, she sighed and adjusted her position. "So be it. But allow me to give you a few gifts for the journey."

A faerie flanked by two knights entered the room. His hair was auburn, turning into an ash beige colour at the tips, and was tied into a taut ponytail with a leather cord. His amber eyes flicked from the Queen to Clary, and lingered there. Unlike the cold, ageless beauty of the other Fair Folk, he looked youthful and daring. He was very still and expressionless, but he held an air of irritation that Clary could easily notice, for he had once been her teacher for years.

"I give you Elcid, who has sworn to protect you with his life during your journey through Edom." The Queen made a dismissive gesture, and the knights flanking the faerie sank back into the undulating shadows of the Court.

A shocked silence ensued for a heartbeat, then Isabelle and Jace began to speak at the same time. Though their words were jumbled, Clary could tell that Isabelle was declining the Queen's offer, and Jace was doing the same in a more appropriate way. Clary silenced them with a slight touch and took a step forward, meeting the Queen's unreadable gaze.

"Thank you, your Majesty, for your generous gift," she said quietly, avoiding the eyes of her new, unexpected ally. "We will try our best to return him safely."

Then Elcid startled her with a laugh—not the musical, unearthly laugh of faeries but an artless bark of mirthless laughter. "That, our fair Queen does not wish. Let us go, Clary. The pitch and hellfire of Edom awaits us."

The faerie exited the chamber with confident grace, barely giving the others enough time to excuse themselves from the Court. Clary had to run to catch up with him and grab his arm. He swung around to confront her.

"What happened? What did you mean back there?"

"I have spent years in confinement with minimum food and water, but apparently that was not a sufficient punishment for my crime," he replied, then glanced at the others. "The Queen believes that you will die, and so shall I together with you."

"Thanks for the confidence boost," Isabelle said with a scowl. "but I thought she liked Clary."

"She promised the boy. She didn't believe that lifting the spell was within his capacity." He fixed his amber eyes on Jace, who returned the gaze steadily. "I know not whether I should praise you for outsmarting her or berate you for your foolishness. You have succeeded in one thing, though you are sure to die attempting the other."

"We'll see," Jace said. Elcid snorted in response.

"You take the lead, then," Clary nudged the faerie.

"We barely know him, though. No offence," Alec added apologetically. "but is it safe to trust him?"

"We can," Clary said with a firm certainty. "Besides, Elcid, what crime were you arrested for?"

"I shot a superior."

"That settles it, then," Jace grinned at Alec. Alec shrugged, his lips twitching. Despite the circumstances, being there with everyone by her side gave Clary a sense of comfort. She glanced up at the faerie, who was dispassionately studying a yellow leaf. She wanted to ask him the details of what had happened, but he would never fill her in with the details while the others were within earshot.

The five quietly stepped down the corridor. Clary's fingers traced the smooth stone wall. The road became rough as they walked, and the rugged surface of the stone scratched her fingertips. She snatched her hand from the wall, shivering despite the odd humidity. Jace startled her by closing his hand on hers.

"I won't sue you if you back down now," he whispered.

"You wish," she replied. Jace sighed and tightened his grip on her hand. Clary thought of the video games she and Magnus had played, and wished she could make a save point. She was literally leading her friends to Hell for a Downworlder they barely knew. They didn't even show a shred of the snobbish Nephilim pride; they were risking their lives and future, purely because they were friends.

Their footsteps slowed. Beyond the team was an enormous, gaping hole, threatening to swallow them lest they move so much as an inch. It looked as if an infernal giant had punched a hole through paper. She could see the edges of the hole fluttering, though she could feel no gale rushing from it.

"This is your last chance to give up, Nephilim," Elcid called out. Clary glanced at the Lightwoods. Isabelle's lips were curled in a fierce grin, and she held her whip dangerously as she took a step forward. Alec held her back warningly.

"We go through that together," he said. "We can't afford to be separated."

"Big brothers," Isabelle rolled her eyes. "Always so boring."

They stood a footstep away from the hole, holding each other's hands in a tight grip. Clary could feel an invisible force pulling them inside, hungrily waiting to devour them. She heard Jace shout a signal. Before she could brace herself, she tumbled into the void, her heart rising to her throat as she fell and fell and fell. She could vaguely hear someone calling her name, but the sound was lost in the fall. As she was embraced into the ravenous darkness, the only thing she could register was the warmth wrapped around her hands—they were her only hooks to reality, and she hung to them dearly.

* * *

 **Author's Note**

I am so, so sorry I'm late. I'd explained on the reviews, but I'll repeat it here too. School semester started, and I adopted a puppy, so I was (and am still) super busy. I'd forgotten how my professors are kind of addicted to assignments :'(

I had made a promise to post this two weeks ago, but the assignments kept me from writing. Again, I'm so sorry for making you all wait. Thank you for reading!


	25. Chapter 25

The first thing Clary noticed was the overwhelming stench of burning tires. She covered her nose to stop herself from throwing up. Her stomach churned, not only from the smell but from the journey as well. When she was finally sure that she could stand up without puking, she lifted her head to find the others. She vaguely recalled her hands slipping away as they fell into the void. Panic rising to her throat, she scrambled to her feet and surveyed the barren land of Hell.

Nothing. No one. She could feel the horror creeping up her spine. Scribbling a Speed rune onto her arm, she ran through the plains. She dared not yell her friends' names for fear of alerting demons to her presence. Instead, she found a mound of black rocks, large enough to be a hill, and climbed it. Her foot slipped on a rock and she stumbled. She regained balance before she tumbled to the ground, but the jagged stones had cut a large gash into her leg. Clary reached to her pockets for her stele but caught nothing; the stick of _adamas_ was stuck between some stones below her.

"Damn it," she cursed under her breath. Clary carefully slid down the hill and pulled the stele free. However, the action had dislodged more rocks, and the whole mound began to disintegrate. In a panic, Clary twisted around and threw her arms around her head to shield it from the falling rocks. When she hit the ground, she frantically pushed herself away to safety, clutching her stele tightly in her grasp so she wouldn't lose it.

The deafening clamour eventually quietened, and Clary slowly stood up. Where there had been the mound of black stones was now replaced by a giant sink hole surrounded by the remaining rubbles. She carefully approached the hole, the tips of her shoes touching the outline of the gap. Clary peered into the darkness, then nudged a pebble in. A small clatter indicated that the fall wasn't too long.

"This is going to be the worst decision I've ever made," she mumbled to herself. Securely fastening the stele to her belt, she took out a witchlight stone and stepped into the hole. Clary had to bite down a yelp as she hit the carpet of stones. She rolled to spread the impact, but the rocks beneath her weren't helping.

Willing the witchlight to brighten up, she studied the marble walls of an outstretched corridor. As the light hit the walls, runes of angelic power glowed as if to correspond. Intricate runes carved into the smooth marble emitted enough light to illuminate the halls. Sucking in a breath, Clary stepped closer to the murals around her. One depicted a figure she was very much familiar with: Jonathan Shadowhunter.

The murals explained a history of might-have-beens, a history of wrong choices and terrible decisions. The Nephilim had denied coexisting with Downworlders, who had sided with their infernal parents as revenge. The Nephilim fought a futile fight, and perished with the rest of humanity in this dimension. Clary had discovered a catacomb, a fancier version of the Silent City.

The sound of her footsteps was the only thing breaking the deathly silence. The hall ended in a circular room, closely resembling the Accords Hall. On the table was a single map, similar to the ones Clary grew up knowing, only covered in a matrix of black lines. Several small pins marked locations, with notes attached to them.

"The City? What's that?" Clary mumbled to herself as she took a seat to have a closer look. Blue pins were sparsely positioned around the red pin named the City, and another note described them as Protection.

"We've seen it on our way. If Magnus is anywhere in this stinking place, it's there."

Clary nearly jumped out of her skin at the voice. Alec and Isabelle stood by the entrance, both looking exhausted.

"Thank the Angel," Clary breathed. "How did you find me?"

"With the ruckus you made, it would be harder not to," Isabelle shrugged. "and then we found the hole. Were you _trying_ to get Asmodeus's attention?"

"At least she found something useful," Alec inspected the map. "The lines must be the map of the catacombs. We'll be travelling much safer through this structure."

"Please, please tell me you know where Jace is," Isabelle added. Seeing Clary's face, she threw her hands up. "We can't do anything without Jace, and we don't have anything of his to track him with."

Clary swore under her breath and tapped the table with her fingers. A glimmer caught her eye, and she almost screamed, _Eureka!_ "The ring," she said as she pulled the metal band from her finger. The circle of herons glinted in the light of the runes. "It's Jace's. We can track him by it."

"Let's hope he's with the faerie guy, then," Alec said. "Could you give it to me? Our _parabatai_ bond will make it easier." He closed his fingers over the ring when Clary handed it to him, and traced a Tracking rune on the back of his hand.

"Can you see him?" Clary anxiously watched as Alec closed his eyes.

"He seems to be in a cave… Yeah, I can see the faerie, though it looks like he's injured." Alec frowned. "Why would Jace enter a random cave in Hell? That's the worst move I can think of."

"Is there anything special about the cave? We can't search every cave in existence," Isabelle asked as she watched her brother intensely.

"I can only see what Jace is seeing, and that's not much," Alec replied, and paused. "Wait. I see runes of protection on the walls." He sighed as he let the connection dissolve. "He could be anywhere. How are we going to find him?"

"Not anywhere," Isabelle said with a grim sort of triumph. "Protection. Protection runes. He must be in one of these." She fingered the blue pins on the map.

"But which one? There's at least a dozen of them." Clary's forehead creased with worry. She wished she could make a rune to find them, but no image came to her mind.

"We'll start with the nearest one," Alec said, his expression hard. "Let's take the map."

* * *

"Wake up, fool! You will get us both killed!"

Jace woke up with a start, his eyes wide open. It took a moment for him to remember where he was—Edom. Beside him was the faerie knight, his amber eyes watching him with impatience.

"Where are the others?" Jace demanded.

"I believe we were separated on the way," he replied. He offered a hand, which Jace took to lift himself from the ground. "This place is full of danger. Even the air itself is poisonous. We must complete our quest before it is too late."

"We can't go without the others," he said with a frown. He rummaged his pockets for anything he could track the others with, but he had no luck. "Do you have anything of Clary's?"

"We have just met after a near decade of separation," Elcid said, his voice worn. "That is to say, no."

"Damn it, what are we going to—duck!" Jace dived forward, pushing the faerie to the ground, just as a demon swooped from the sky with open talons. Having missed, the demon let out a frustrated screech and lunged again for the Shadowhunter _. "Sansanvi!"_

The seraph blade blazed to life at his voice, and swung just in time to plunge into the demon's neck. The two were sprayed with black ichor as the demon's corpse rocketed to the ground. Before Jace could deactivate the blade, Elcid pointed to the sky.

"Our presence has been alerted," the faerie growled. Jace followed his gaze to see three more demons in the distance, their silhouettes against the sunlight growing bigger as they soared towards them.

"I wish I had Alec with me," Jace grumbled as they broke into a run. Three minutes in Hell, and he already missed Alec's archer skills. He had no time to apply Marks, and the demons were gaining on them.

"There," Elcid shouted. "That cave will be sufficient shelter!"

"Brilliant idea," he yelled back with as much sarcasm as he could muster. "I bet the caves of Hell are perfectly safe." The screeches were getting louder, and Jace could hear the flapping noises the demons' leather wings made. With a grunt, Jace changed direction and pulled out another seraph blade. _"Sanvi!"_

The blade sailed through the sky and sank into a demon's wing joint. Howling in pain, the demon plummeted to the earth, twisting and snarling. Jace launched himself onto the demon and used Sansanvi to sever the demon's snapping head. As soon as the demon slumped, he pulled out Sanvi from its corpse and deflected another demon's talon. He glimpsed Elcid cleave through the third demon's leg with a faerie sword, before leaping onto the airborne demon in front of him. He swung onto the demon and thrust his sword into its back before it could twist around and bite his arm off. He jumped off the demon as it hit the ground. Elcid watched with a bloody sword in his hand.

"We need shelter," he said in a weak voice. Jace's eyes widened to see the blood gushing from a gash on his arm. "I have been impaled, and I need rest to heal."

"Heal? I can't put an iratze on you, and you're going to bleed to death before we find a safe place!"

"The cave," he said quietly. "It had been shelter for the perished Nephilim of this dimension. I can use faerie magic to heal, but it will be of no use if our lives are threatened every second."

"Perished Nephilim?" Jace asked, but before Elcid could answer, the sound of something collapsing made them stiffen.

"What could that be?"

"Nothing good," Jace said with a grimace. "Let's go." He let the faerie lean into him, supporting his weight as they headed for the cave. He tensed as they entered the cavern, and held up the witchlight stone. The stone's warm glow revealed the protection runes carved into the walls. He lowered the faerie to the ground, who slumped against the cold wall.

"This dimension had once held humanity," Elcid murmured as he took out some leaves from a small sack tied to his belt. He rubbed it in his palms and put it to the injury. "However, these Shadowhunters were a race prouder even than your arrogant people. They denied the rights of Downworlders, and eventually perished in the hands of demons and those they had ignored. Since then, the lands of Edom have been ruled by Asmodeus."

Jace didn't reply, but merely observed the faerie. He remembered how Clary had spoken for the faerie with a confident look in her eyes. The way he said that he had killed a superior also bugged his mind. Jace had an inexplicable feeling that the reason Elcid had been imprisoned was related to Clary. Though he didn't know this faerie, he felt a strange obligation to keep him alive.

The question slipped from his lips before he could stop himself. "What happened between you and Clary?"

Elcid laughed. It was a hearty sound, a sound of genuine amusement. "Don't tell me you're jealous, Nephilim." When Jace responded with a scowl, he laughed again. "We were each other's teacher. I taught her the basics of fighting, and learned from her human emotions. Suffice to say, she changed the way I view the world."

That sounded so much like Clary that his heart ached. He wished she was there by his side, or at least know whether she was safe. The only things that kept him from bursting out of the cave to search for her was the fact that he hadn't felt anything through the _parabatai_ bond, and a hopeful guess that if Alec was safe, Clary was, too.

"Did it have anything to do with killing your superior?" Jace asked, prying his mind away from Clary.

"He asked for it," Elcid replied, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "He had a grudge against the warlock, and was planning to kidnap her, imprison her in the land under the hill. Time flows differently there. A year in your world is equal to decades in Faerie, and he wished to return her to the warlock when she was on the brink of death from old age. He wanted the warlock to witness his own child die in his arms, with barely a decade of happy memories to hang on to."

"So you killed him." Jace felt nauseous at the thought. The Fair Folk were twisted beings, capable of punishing those who had wronged them, in the worst way possible. He wondered what Magnus had done to infuriate the faerie.

"He had ordered me to do the kidnapping. I slit his throat instead," Elcid simply said. After that, they sat in silence. Jace used a Heat rune to start a fire, and took out a packet holding their provisions. He held out a biscuit to Elcid, but the faerie refused. He tore it open and wolfed down its contents. Eventually, the silence was broken by Elcid, who had peeled off the leaves to reveal fresh skin. "It's dark outside. Sleep. I shall watch for demons."

Jace watched the embers dance, casting quavering shadows across the walls. It reminded him of Clary, of her fiery hair billowing in the breeze and the fire in her eyes when they met his. The absence of his ring gave him a strange sense of hollowness, but also relief that she carried a piece of him even in the depths of Hell. Then he realized with a jolt that they still had hope.

"She has my ring," he breathed. Elcid turned to him with a raised eyebrow. "Clary has my ring. She can track us with it."

"Then we should stay here, to make it easier for them to find us," the faerie commented. "Perhaps she will spot the blood trail and follow us here."

Jace disliked the idea of doing nothing, but he had no choice. He sighed, the weight of his worries somewhat lifted, and cast his eyes again to the flickering flames. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Thanks for the reviews :) I read them over and over again. The next update will take me more time, I'm afraid. I have to study for midterms :/

Thank you for following and fave-ing me, too. You keep me going :D


	26. Chapter 26

Clary woke up with a jolt at the sound of footsteps. She raised her head to see Alec returning with the map in his hands, his expression brighter than it had been the previous night.

"I've scouted the area, and I've figured out what the symbols on the map means," he announced triumphantly. "The X marks are ladders we can use to get back, and the tear-shaped ones indicate small springs—water sources. And I'm only guessing, but I think the parts on the map coloured in red marks demon dens up there. My Sensor picks up higher signals when I approach it."

"Great," Isabelle said, stifling a yawn. The necklace swung on her throat as she stretched her arms, radiating an eerie glow. Its demon sensing power was useless in this realm. "And Jace? Is he still there?"

"Yep," Alec nodded. "The faerie seemed to be fully healed, but they're not moving."

"I hope that means he knows we're tracking him," Clary said with a sigh. "We should go, now. If Asmodeus doesn't kill us, the stench might."

"We have two choices." Alec spread the map on the ground so the girls could peer at it. The lines were too complex for Clary to make out anything, so she leaned back and listened to what Alec had to say. "There's a route that leads straight to the nearest cave, but the ladder leads to the middle of nowhere, so we would be exposed as soon as we go up. Plus, the demon den is not far away enough." He pointed at the red splotches near the small X. "Another exit opens up near the cave, but it's a longer, more complicated route, possibly several hours of more walk."

A thoughtful silence fell over them. Clary was weighing their chances when Isabelle said in a firm voice, "Time isn't a luxury we can afford." Alec nodded and rolled up the map. He tucked it inside his backpack and beckoned for the two of them to follow him.

They would occasionally pass murals identical to the ones they had discovered before. The sight of them sent shivers down Clary's spine. She struggled to concentrate on the way ahead of them, avoiding Jonathan Shadowhunter's stony gaze that seemed to follow them as they ran past his portrait. The maze-like structure was beautiful in its own way, but it held an air of foreboding that kept her from admiring its allure.

"We're here," Alec pointed to a ladder made of polished wood. Above them was a rectangular panel of glass, the scene beyond it obscured by a sheet of black sand. Alec inscribed an Open rune on the marble wall and stood back as it shimmered and faded. The glass panel slid aside, causing the sand to rain down like black snow. They held their breath, preparing for any sign of demons, but nothing happened.

"My Sensor isn't catching higher signals than the usual," Isabelle muttered. She shoved the Sensor back into her pocket and grabbed a rung. The wood gave a small creak in protest as she climbed, but otherwise seemed sturdy enough. Clary followed as soon as Isabelle was out, and Alec was the last to push himself out of the hole.

"Which way, Alec?"

"Opposite of the city." A sparkle caught Clary's eye. At a closer look, she realized that it was the demon towers far in the distance, glinting dangerously even in the dim light of the dying sun.

"Is that Alicante?" Her question came out as a whisper. The sight of the Nephilim's hometown, abandoned and infested with demons, made her instinctively clutch her weapon tightly. It was the symbol of the fall of this world's ultimate line of defence.

"Yeah," he replied quietly.

"And which way is the demon den?" Isabelle shot weary glances around her, searching for any sign of danger.

"To our left." Alec rubbed the compass rune on his arm. "Let's go."

The sand shifted beneath her feet as they walked, and her feet sank in by an inch every time she took a step. The terrain made it even more difficult for her to keep pace. There was a roughness in her throat every time she swallowed, and her lungs felt as if it had been coated with a film of ash. The air stank of sulphur and tasted even worse. She was becoming exhausted by the minute, but what made it worse was the thought that Magnus was here, alone and at the mercy of one of the most powerful demons in existence.

"Let's take a rest," Alec decided. They slumped beside a boulder. Isabelle passed around a bottle of water. Alec took the last gulp and thrust the empty bottle into the distance. He dug his fingers into the sand, scowling in frustration. "I was stupid. This isn't a faster route at all."

"You didn't know it would be like this. We didn't either," Clary said softly. She had brought her friends into this mess. She felt responsible, but there was nothing in her that could help them.

"I did the choosing, anyway," Isabelle said, casting a meaningful look at Clary. "We all made our choices. No one here is at fault."

Clary managed to lift the tips of her lips in a hollow half-smile. She stared at her toes, not sure what to say. She could feel the Lightwoods' concern, but she didn't have the strength to attempt a light-hearted joke.

"At least I can sense Jace nearby," Alec quickly changed the topic. He twisted the Herondale ring he wore on his finger.

"Why are you wearing it, anyway? It looks like you're engaged with Jace, and that's just gross. You're practically brothers." Isabelle made a face at Alec, who glared in return.

"I might lose it if I don't," he grumbled.

"Let's just get going, shall we?" Clary suggested delicately. The Lightwoods glowered at each other and slowly got to their feet. Then Alec lurched forward, pulling Isabelle down with him, and rolled away from the boulder. A giant pincer snapped at the spot where Alec's head should had been a second ago.

Clary scrambled away from the demon and reached for her seraph blade. Another pincer lunged for her, but a well-aimed arrow plunged into the demon's eye. Screaming, it began to whirl around and attack in a wild frenzy. Clary ducked as its pincers cleaved through the air above her. The demon knocked the boulder aside, which crashed into the sand inches from Clary's legs.

The towering demon the size of a stallion came into full view. It looked like a giant spider with a thick shell like a crustacean and the head of an alligator. There was a cluster of eyes between a pair of huge pincers on either side of its head. It let out a deafening roar and advanced toward the Shadowhunters.

Another arrow shot towards the demon but bounced off its armour harmlessly. Clary heard Alec swear loudly.

"Language, Alec!" Isabelle shouted as she brandished her whip. It wrapped around a pincer and made a sizzling sound as the electrum cut through the demon's flesh. The pincer fell with a heavy thud, still writhing and twisting.

As Alec grabbed another arrow and took aim, Clary sprayed the demon's eyes with black sand to grab its attention.

"Over here, ugly! _Abrariel!_ " The blade burst into blinding light as the demon reared back, roaring in fury. Clary took the opportunity to hurl her weapon into its less-protected belly. At the same time, Alec's arrow streaked into its mouth and penetrated its throat. With a final howl of pain, the demon toppled over, still convulsing after Clary pulled out her sword and skewered its belly again.

"Clary, enough." Isabelle yanked her arm none too gently. "It's dead."

"Not dead enough," she muttered and wrenched the seraph blade from the demon angrily.

"We need to go _now_ ," Alec urged. "We've been too loud. More demons will come if we don't move fast."

As if it had been waiting for those words, a demon resembling a wyvern swooped from the sky and landed in front of them, releasing a feral bellow. Alec cursed again, and this time Isabelle didn't tease him. They leaped away just in time as thick, yellow-green gas poured from the demon's mouth. When it closed its mouth again, the sand where the gas hit was covered in a goop of foul-smelling slime.

Alec nocked an arrow, aiming again for its throat while Isabelle severed its wing with her whip. The demon's eyes flared and its neck stretched back, ready to strike again. Isabelle's whip charged for the demon's neck, but it was deflected by an agitated swing of the demon's winged arm.

A wisp of green smoke escaped its black lips, and Alec's eyes widened as he realized that the demon was about to shower him with its poisonous gas. He wouldn't be able to dive away in time, and the others were too far away to help him.

"Not my _parabatai_ , sewer-breath!" Something black and gold catapulted through the sky and collided with the demon's head, knocking it to the ground. The gas spewed out from its mouth, tainting the black sand.

Jace let out an exhilarated laugh and severed its neck with a clean swipe of his sword. It quivered like an uncontrolled hose, spraying the earth with black ichor before finally flopping to the ground lifelessly.

"Jace!" Alec half-ran to greet his _parabatai_ , his voice a mixture of relief and gratitude.

"Go on, shower me with compliments and praises for my brilliant rescue," he said with a smirk. His eyes swept over them, searching for injuries, and froze momentarily when they met Clary's.

"What took you so goddamn long?" Alec demanded.

Jace broke away from their eye contact to stare at Alec in astonishment. "What?"

Seeing Jace's face, Alec burst into laughter and he pulled Jace into a brotherly hug. Jace gave him a manly pound on the back, his lips curled in a satisfied smile. Clary heard Isabelle sigh as the tension broke.

"Save the touching reconciliations for later," Elcid's sharp voice called out from behind them. "We must get to the cave before sunset."

Jace padded towards Clary and wrapped her hand in his. His familiar warmth and steady pulse was relaxing, and she found herself squeezing his hand tightly.

"Let's go, then," he said. A weight lifted off her shoulders, Clary sucked in a breath and followed the others. They were finally ready to rescue Magnus.

* * *

 **Author's Note**

Sorry it's a little short. I've been busy lately, but I did want to post what I'd written on my spare time.

Thanks for the reviews, follows, and faves! :)


	27. Chapter 27

Clary stared at the crackling flames, her chin resting on her knees. She was wrapped up in a large towel and her coppery hair clung to her face in wet strands—she had taken a bath in the lake they had discovered in the depths of the cave. The heat from the fire stroked her cheeks and tickled her nose, but she still felt cold on the inside. It was as though her anxiety and nervousness were sucking the warmth out of her.

She turned when Jace settled beside her. He sat cross-legged so his knees brushed against her ankles. He handed her an apple and took a bite of the beef jerky on his other hand. Elcid studied a biscuit thoughtfully, then carefully nibbled the edge. Clary glanced at Alec, who was seemingly empty-handed as he stood guard by the entrance, before biting into the apple. The sweetness was overwhelming—her eyes shut automatically as she savoured the burst of flavour with every bud of her tongue.

"I've been looking at the map, and I'm one hundred percent sure that Magnus is in this world's version of the Gard," Jace informed her after he swallowed. "There's probably zero chance of us getting to Magnus without confronting Asmodeus, but that doesn't mean we're not going to try."

"We need not waste time making plans to sneak in," Elcid disagreed. "It is impossible. What we need to plan is the bargain. What are you going to offer to the Prince of Hell to free your father?"

"And to get us out of here," Isabelle added from behind them. "I don't want to live unhappily ever after in a dead dimension."

"We do have something, but it won't be enough." Jace's hand sought for Clary's. She intertwined her fingers with his in a reassuring gesture, hoping she looked more confident than she felt. "But a certain Greater Demon told me that demons like bets."

"Is it a bet that we have a chance of winning?" Clary nearly jumped out of her skin at Alec's sudden voice from behind her. His steps were silent even for a Shadowhunter

"I don't know. I need a plan," he replied with a grimace.

The team fell silent, and Clary wondered if any of them regretted the decisions that led them here. There was nothing she wanted more than a rune to magically fix all their problems, but the Angel granted her none. Though she had her friends with her, she felt so utterly alone. The presence of the others weighed down on her like an invisible ball and chain—she felt responsible for their pain, but she held no solutions.

"I think," Elcid said slowly. "I have a plan. It is extremely risky, but it is still a bet where we have a chance to win should Fortune smile upon us."

"Let's hear it, then."

"There is a way back to our world that only I can make," the faerie said in a quiet voice. "A half hour. Ask the infernal prince to give us the warlock and a half-hour. After the given time, he may begin to hunt us down, but if we manage to escape before we are captured, then we are free."

Jace observed the faerie thoughtfully. "Despite the stunning feats I can accomplish with a seraph blade, I doubt we can last more than a second against Asmodeus himself. Are you sure about this?"

"Asmodeus is not a fool; if our victory is certain, he will never accept the bet," Elcid said with closed eyes. "However, this will be the most fun he has had in centuries. He will not spoil the fun so easily."

Jace sucked in a breath, then sighed. "Sounds like a plan. High risk, high return, but it's the only choice we have. By the way," Jace turned to Clary, holding up their clasped hands. "where's the ring?"

Before Clary could say anything, Isabelle snickered from behind: "I think she decided Alec suited you better as a partner."

"Shut up, Izzy." Alec leered at his sister before snatching the ring off his finger and flipping it into the air. It briefly glinted gold as it reflected the warm light of the fire before Jace neatly caught it.

"Something you want to talk about?" Jace addressed Alec with a raised eyebrow.

"No!" Alec irritably snatched a granola bar and returned to the cave entrance. Jace chuckled under his breath, and Clary managed a small smile.

"Try to sleep," Jace murmured as he slid the ring onto Clary's finger. "I have a feeling we're going to need your runes a lot tomorrow."

"Let's hope these fingers do hold miracles, then," she sighed. She tossed the leftover apple core into the flames, then shifted to lie on her side, her head resting on his lap. The ground was uneven and pebbles dug into her ribs, but she didn't move lest the fingers combing through her drying hair halted. "Jace?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we have sushi when we go back?"

"Nah, we're having spaghetti at Taki's," he replied with a smirk. " _Then_ we can have the raw fish."

"Damn it, Herondale," she mumbled. "Bossy as always."

She closed her eyes as he shook with silent laughter, finding the movement oddly comforting. She willed herself to go to sleep, but exhausted as she was, her mind stayed wide awake. A light brush on her wrist made her eyelids open in time to see Jace finishing a small Sleep Now rune on her wrist.

"Sleep tight," he whispered. A grateful smile teased the tips of her lips. He seemed to know everything she needed. Feeling the warmth from his rough hands spread into her bones, she welcomed the numbing blackness that pulled her into a dreamless slumber.

* * *

Clary pocketed the extra stele Alec handed her. Her palms were sweaty from anxiety, though she kept her face clear of the emotion. Jace was gearing up and fastening more seraph blades onto his weapons belt. Feeling her eyes on him, he looked up and grinned at her.

"There's an entrance to the catacombs near the cave. Let's minimize our time aboveground." Alec studied the map he was holding determinedly.

"How long will the trip take us?" Isabelle peered over Alec's shoulder to examine it.

"If we don't meet any surprises, we'll be there by midday, I think."

"Then let's go," Jace announced. "There's no time to waste."

The team left the protection of the cave, all on their guard for any sudden movement. Alec took the lead with Elcid at the rear, his hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword. Clary thought she had gotten used to the stench, but she was wrong—as soon as she stepped out into the open, the smell was almost a physical blow. Breathing through her mouth, she took another step forward, only to be halted by Elcid grasping her arm.

"Clary, can you later make a Portal to that cave?" Clary whirled to see a distant cave across a ravine, with only a narrow stone bridge connecting the land.

"Yeah, if Portals work normally here," she replied. "Why?"

"We'll need it." He didn't seem eager to say more. Clary shrugged and turned to follow the others. They had already found a round door, similar in shape to a manhole. Jace lazily traced an Open rune into the metal, and it slid open with a small groan.

Jace whistled. "How did you find this place?"

"Clary fell over," Alec laughed, earning a glare from Clary.

"Ah," Jace said after a moment. "I should have known."

Clary elbowed him before climbing into the hole. Jace dropped in after her, surveying their surroundings. Impressed, he sucked in a breath.

"Is this Edom's version of the Silent City?"

"I guess so," Alec replied as he helped Elcid down. Isabelle jumped in last, not bothering to use the ladder.

"Lead on, Captain." Jace made a mock salute to Alec, who rolled his eyes in return. Their footsteps echoed around the halls as they walked in silence. They took frequent rests as to be in good shape when they reached their destination, but Clary knew it wouldn't help much against who they were going to meet.

"Remind me again, why aren't we using Clary's Portals?" Jace asked mid-walk.

"For the fifteenth time, Jace, we can't risk it. We might end up in a completely different place, or worse, not step out of the Portal at all," Alec ranted.

"I say we try it," Elcid objected. "We will need to use the Portal anyway." Jace flashed a grin at Alec which clearly meant, _I told you so._

Alec turned to Isabelle, who shrugged. "If it means we don't have to walk for another couple of hours, I'm in."

"Right. I momentarily forgot who I was traveling with," he grumbled. "Clary, can you make the Portal?"

"Roger," she replied. She pulled out her stele from her belt and carefully carved the Mark into the marble wall, then stepped back as a rift opened up. The unstable, swirling lights slowly morphed into the landscape of Edom's Alicante.

"You go first." Alec nudged Jace, who grabbed Alec's arm and pulled him in together with a wicked Cheshire cat smile on his face. Elcid calmly sauntered into the Portal, and Isabelle winked at Clary before following. Clary at last strode through the Portal, coughing a little when the humidity hit her.

"See? It works fine." Jace squeezed her hand in his. Clary could tell that he had not been as sure of her success as he let on.

"Congratulations," Alec replied with a heavy sigh. "Where do we go, now?"

"Nowhere," Clary's heart skipped a beat at the familiar voice. Magnus stood there, dressed in a neat designer suit, but something was off about him. He had a strange faraway look in his eyes and his smile seemed forced. "Looking for me, biscuit?"

Elcid held a protective arm in front of her, and glared at the warlock. "It is an unpleasant surprise, Asmodeus."

"Believe me, you're not half as surprised as I was when you dropped into my realm," he said pleasantly. "I knew my son had an adopted child, but I never thought she would be stupid enough to plunder into the depths of Hell."

Clary remained silent, not trusting her voice. Jace glanced at her, and his expression hardened. "What have you done to Magnus?"

"Nothing permanent," Asmodeus sneered through Magnus's lips. "So, have you come to bargain? What have you got to offer?"

"A bet," Jace said with confidence. "Give us Magnus and half an hour. After that, you can start to hunt us. If we manage to escape before you defeat us, we're free."

"And if you lose? I can always squeeze you until you pop like a balloon, Nephilim."

"But you can only get what I'm offering if I willingly hand it to you." Jace, incredibly, smiled. "The Angel's gift in our blood. The power that makes us Shadowhunters."

A stifling silence ensued for what felt like eternity, then Magnus collapsed. Clary lurched forward to catch him before he hit the ground. A tall figure loomed over her, scrutinizing her as though she were an interesting specimen. Elcid and Jace pulled them both away from the Greater Demon.

"It's a deal, then," Asmodeus smiled. His green-gold eyes were identical to Magnus's, but they held no kindness—only cruelty and greed. "The thirty minutes start now. Good luck, fools. I will enjoy feeding you piece by piece to my _asmodei._ " The demon melted into the shadows, leaving only a chuckle that seemed to echo through the eerily empty city.

"Clary—the Portal," Elcid urged. He crunched some dry leaves he took out from a pouch and blew the powder into Magnus's face while Clary hurriedly began to draw the rune. Magnus began to stir, but before he could fully recover, the team charged into the conjured gateway. Clary risked one last glance behind her shoulder before following the others into the Portal. Two laughing, feline eyes stared back from the shadows.

* * *

 **Author's Note**

Sorry again for the delay. It's been a hard week on me. I had heaps of assignments to complete, and an actor I liked passed away from an accident just days after he got his first film award.

The next chapter will probably be the last one, though I'll have to check how it turns out to be certain :)  
I've already written a few chapters of my next work, so I'll post it right after I post the final chapter of The Warlock's Child.

Thank you everyone who has followed/faved me and left reviews!


	28. Chapter 28

"This," Elcid said with a determined face. He held up a simple staff made of polished white wood. "is called the Branch of Yggdrasil. With sufficient magic, we can create a temporary Portal to our own world."

Magnus, who was resting against a boulder, weakly looked up. "Elcid—"

"This is our only chance, warlock." His ageless, amber eyes swept over Magnus and the Shadowhunters. "I will be inside the cave to charge the Branch with magic. I know not how long the process will take, so you must protect the cave should it last longer than our given time." Not waiting for an answer, he stalked into the gaping entrance to the cave.

"We need a plan, then," Jace said, surveying their surroundings. "It would be easier if we knew what we're up against."

"Asmodeus likes to play with his victims," Magnus quietly informed them. "He enjoys watching them grow weak until they collapse and cry blood. Most likely, he will start sending hordes of demons until we surrender. Even then, he won't kill us outright."

"We can destroy that bridge, for starters," Alec proposed.

"I don't think it would help too much. That's a ravine, not a chasm. It's too shallow _and_ narrow. Demons will cross it in minutes," Jace objected. "Besides, there will be airborne demons."

"We could blow it up while they're crossing the bridge," Clary suggested. "Destroy the most obvious route and kill some demons in the process."

"That's an idea, but it won't buy us enough time," Isabelle said grimly. "I'll scout the area, then."

"I'll come with you," Clary quickly said. With a nod at Jace and a quick hug for Magnus, she hurried after Isabelle. Her feet burned from their arduous journey. She wondered how Isabelle moved so gracefully in her high-heeled boots, but her hardened expression prevented Clary from asking her about it. Instead, she said what had been eating her since the moment they got here. "I'm sorry for everything, Izzy."

"Clary," Isabelle finally said after a long silence. "I meant it when I told you that we've all made our choices. We all chose to come here. You don't need to feel sorry."

"But—"

"No buts." Isabelle gave her a long look. "Look, we're soldiers. We die all the time." Seeing her expression, she added, "But not now. We're going to get out of here all in one piece. My point is, we're prepared for disaster, and this is nothing but an adventure we can boast about when we get back home."

Clary nodded, then stopped in her tracks. "Izzy—"

"I'm not accepting apologies, Clary. Deal with it."

"No, Izzy, _look_." She pointed at a giant pile of boulders that formed a large hill, marking the end of the ravine. "If we make that collapse, we could completely bury the demons."

"It's too dangerous," she frowned. "Once it falls apart, we won't be able to control it. We might bury ourselves."

Disappointed but unable to argue otherwise, Clary turned. Then a vision hit her, making her stagger and grasp Isabelle's shoulder for balance. A rune with soft, swerving lines flashed across her vision. Her lips curved into a triumphant smile as the whisper of hope crossed her mind.

"Decoy," she said, then looked up at Isabelle. "I can make a Decoy rune. It won't fool Asmodeus, but it will work on minor demons." She sprinted toward the face of the cliff and let the tip of her stele burn a rune into its rocky surface. The air seemed to ripple and churn. When Clary took a step back, the image of Jace stared back at her, his eyes as bright and lively as the real one. Behind her, Isabelle whistled.

"That's pretty convincing," she remarked and grinned back at Clary. "Come on, let's tell the others."

When they got back, Magnus was lying flat on his back, staring at the sky, while Alec was pacing with a worried frown etched on his face. Clary heard a shout from above. She looked up to see Jace jump away from the crag and land gracefully in front of them.

"Mind if I drop in?"

"I hate your puns," Isabelle grumbled. "They're terrible."

"You're welcome," he replied and tipped an imaginary hat. "Any progress?"

"Not much," she shrugged, then patted Clary's shoulders with a proud grin. "Only a brand-new Decoy rune crafted by our rune expert here."

"It's basically a glamour identical to us. It doesn't have any combat abilities, but it will fool the demons for at least a few minutes," Clary explained.

"A few minutes won't be enough." Jace's brow furrowed thoughtfully.

"Says the guy who's been rock climbing for the last fifteen minutes. What do you suggest?" Jace combed his hair with his fingers—a habit of his that Clary found endearing. He opened his mouth after a long pause, only to be interrupted by a voice from behind.

"I'll place protection wards around the decoy to waste more of their time." Magnus got up, patting the dirt off his robes. Noticing their worried eyes, he sighed dramatically. "I can manage a few wards. I normally can't use magic in this realm, but for some reason my father returned my magic. You don't have to look at me as if I'm about to drop dead any second."

"I'll go with him just in case," Alec added. "Clary should stay here and place more wards. And, um, can you open the Portal there for us?" Clary nodded, still worriedly staring at Magnus.

"Go on, biscuit," he said with a wink. "Let's see your magic."

They marched into the Portal without hesitation as soon as Clary's rune was activated. She was staring at the remaining glimmer of the closed Portal when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"They'll be fine," Jace said gently. "Relax. You're bleeding." He pointed at his own lips. At that, she realized she had been biting her lower lip so hard that she had drawn blood. She dabbed at her lips with her sleeve and managed a smile.

"Let's get busy, then," she said, forcing herself to maintain her brightness. "I'll start drawing the runes of Protection. You should just… do whatever you were doing."

"Taking high ground," he announced proudly. "I need to see them when they're coming."

"No, you weren't. You were just rock climbing for the sake of rock climbing." Isabelle rolled her eyes and took her stele out. "I'll help Clary. Go ahead and climb some rocks, we don't have much time left." She got to her knees and began to burn the runes into the ground.

"I wish Elcid would finish whatever he's doing before things start to get really bad, really quick," Jace muttered. He leaned forward to give Clary a peck on her cheek before leaping an incredible distance for the rock face. She half-expected him to smash his face, but when she turned to see him, he was nimbly climbing like a black and gold Spiderman.

Warding took a lot of effort; one mistake, and you end up warding your own foot. Clary finished each rune of Protection with immense care, focusing her mind on what they were protecting. After what felt like hours, she bumped into Isabelle and let out a relieved sigh. They had finally completed a semicircle of runes around the cave.

"I hope it will last at least as much time as we spent on it," she groaned as she got up. Her back was killing her.

"Why aren't Alec and Magnus coming?" Isabelle frowned, then waved at Jace, who was balancing precariously on a jagged stone sticking out from the rock face. "Can you see Alec and Magnus from there?"

Jace, having heard Isabelle's shouts, squinted into the distance, one hand blocking the sunlight from his eyes. Clary thought she saw him stiffen. He shouted something, but it was lost in the sudden gust of wind. She turned towards where it came from, and froze.

"Please tell me that's just a storm cloud," she whispered.

"Shit, where _are_ they?" Isabelle began sprinting for the decoy, but Jace landed right in front of her, blocking her way.

"The demons. They're going that way," he said grimly. "Clary, we need a Portal."

"No, you two stay here." She was already finishing the rune. She looked over her shoulder at Jace. "I'm going to bring Magnus and Alec back through the Portal. We'll risk getting separated if we all go." Not waiting for an answer, she dived straight into the conjured doorway.

The other side of the Portal was a nightmare. A swarm of demons crashed into Magnus's wards again and again like furious ravens trying to break through a window. Magnus was leaning on the rock face, looking utterly spent, while Alec shot at the demons with his arrow. But with each demon down, another came to take its place.

"Magnus! Alec!" Alec looked back, a look of clear relief on his face. He lowered his bow and helped Magnus up.

"Thank the Angel." He flashed a grateful smile at Clary. "I thought we were going to die there."

"Don't worry about me," Magnus added. "I've spent too much magic. Nothing a little rest can't fix."

"I have something to do here," she said. "Go to the circle and stay there. I'll be right back." Magnus reached for her with a worried look, but she smiled and pushed them into the Portal. "Don't worry about me!" Clary called as the two vanished into the Portal.

After a moment of silent prayer, she dashed for the pile of boulders at the end of the ravine. She had trouble climbing it. Bits of stray rocks cut into her skin, but she didn't feel the pain. Her determination put her in a state of numbness, making her oblivious to the pain and fear. She finally found a decent spot, and she slammed her stele into the boulder there. Her hand was moving even before she knew what she was going to write.

 _Mene mene tekel upharsin._

She stared at the rune, unable to move a muscle. Every ounce of her strength had gone into the rune. She had dreamt of it years before, but she had never understood its use. Now she knew. It was a powerful rune, worthy of being her final one. She closed her eyes just as the rune flared to life. _Please let it be painless._

A giant groan resonated through the air and the mountain of boulders began to fall apart. The boulder beneath her gave out. The terror that had been bottled up inside her exploded all at once. She opened her eyes with a jolt. She reached for something to hold on to, but her body was already falling like an autumn leaf. _This is it,_ she thought. _The end._

"Not so fast, biscuit," came Magnus's voice. Clary felt her body float—she was caught in a bubble, bouncing off the falling boulders as they flattened the demon horde. It took her to the Portal—she had left it open, she realized—and popped when Magnus drove a finger through it.

"Magnus!" Clary fell into his arms, burying her face in his coat.

"Are you getting your revenge on me? You nearly gave me a heart attack," he sighed. "Don't tell me you're going to erase my memories next."

"I might," she laughed. "But I thought your magic was drained—"

"Jace said he had a bad feeling about you. He lent me his strength." He pulled her into the Portal with him, her hand held firmly in his. "I don't think he's husband material, by the way." He held up her hand and tapped the Herondale ring with a meaningful look.

"What?" Jace asked, his arms crossed. He glared at Clary, who shrugged in return. "Next time we're doing anything dangerous, I'm keeping you under lock and key."

"As soon as we get back, _I'm_ keeping _you_ under lock and key. Stay away from her," Magnus replied.

"Besides, she did do an excellent job, albeit being a complete idiot to think that it was okay to pull that stunt alone." Isabelle gestured towards the flattened demons that filled the ravine. A few remained airborne, but they weren't as much of a threat.

"Those wards are going to shatter any second," Magnus observed. "Elcid had better hurry up now. We're out of—"

A burst of green light exploded from the cave, forcing their eyes shut. The light softened a moment later, but the damage was done. Screeching furiously, the demons swerved away from the decoy and catapulted toward them with incredible speed. One slammed into the invisible barrier head-first. It pulled its lips back into a snarl, baring its uneven teeth dripping viscous slime.

Clary's instincts kicked in. She broke into a run, willing her legs to move faster. The others followed suit, heading deeper into the cave. They didn't have to run for long; they stopped dead in their tracks when the rift came into view.

"Where's Elcid?" Clary glanced around, but there was no sign of the faerie.

"He probably went in first. Come on, we've got no time to waste." Jace put a hand to her shoulder reassuringly. The others nodded and stepped into the Portal one by one. Being the only ones left, Jace turned to her. "Ladies first?"

"Shut up," she replied, and pushed him in before following.

The air escaped her lungs and she was alone in an empty world. There was no earth to support her, no oxygen to breathe in, no light for her eyes to get used to. Unable to comprehend her situation, she spun around to find the others. Then she was pulled downwards with such force that she felt as though her insides were being pushed into her throat. Multicoloured lights danced across her view even as she fell, and she breathed in the scent of spring leaves as fresh air filled her lungs.

She tumbled into a pile of dry leaves. Magnus's warm hands helped her up. She spat out a leaf and looked around her.

"Where are we? Where are the others? Where's Elcid?"

"Home. Well, Idris, to be more precise. The others are probably scattered around this place, but they'll find their way. It's their home country, after all." Magnus ruffled her locks. "You really did bring me back, biscuit. You did the impossible." Then his expression softened, and she somehow knew what he was going to say before the words escaped his lips. "As for Elcid… The spell he cast requires a life. He was already doomed in Faerie. He carried out his sentence by sacrificing himself for our safe return."

Clary stared at the brown leaves covering the tips of her worn boots. "That's why the Queen let him come with us," she mumbled. "We pretty much executed him."

"Hey, he couldn't have wished for better executioners. It's painless, and he managed to help us. Even the mildest punishment in Faerie is much, much worse than that. You can trust me on this."

"Please tell me you don't know this from experience," she said with a weak smile.

Magnus winked, then flicked his finger. A Portal appeared, and through it she could see a familiar sight that she had missed so much.

Magnus's cat-like eyes glowed brightly in the evening light. He offered her a hand, which she squeezed tightly. "Let's go home, biscuit."

"Yeah." Her lips curved into a big, genuine smile, a smile she hadn't made in ages. "Let's go."

* * *

 **Author's Note**

And that marks the end of The Warlock's Child! Thank you for reading and taking interest in my story. Every follow, favorite, and review was-and still is-precious to me. I open my phone and read them every once in a while.

I might write an epilogue, but I'm leaving for Europe tomorrow, so it will take time. (Does anyone know where I should visit during my stay in London, Paris, and Budapest? I'll be grateful for any suggestions :D) Meanwhile, I'll post my pre-written story every Monday. It's titled Valentine's Daughter. Though the title sounds similar, it's not a prequel to this story :/

Thank you once more for reading my story. I hope you'll enjoy my next one!

+) oestffel Yep, on Chapter 1, Valentine knocked her out to kidnap her. Sorry if that part was unclear :)


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